The 18th: Standing in their Graves
by Chaos In Her Wake
Summary: It is time yet again for children to become murderers, time again for twenty-four young lives to be sacrificed. Muttations will tear at naked flesh and cruel laughs will echo through the dreaded Arena. Under the cruel hand of an evil Head Gamemaker, who will be condemned to a life worse than death? May the odds be ever in your favor. I do not own THG.
1. Prologue & Tribute List

GAMEMAKER CRISPUS SCELESTIBER

Cornelia Thames managed to bring around one good arena, but the plan this year- a Wild West ghost town? Really?- is utterly stupid. We came close enough to that when we had a small neighborhood as the arena during the Seventh Games. The rest of the Gamemakers are dissatisfied, and we have our own ideas. Mutts with evil intelligence, traps with subtlety and style, we even have the Cornucopia setting finished down to the last pebble. We won't let her turn in those stupid town arena plans tomorrow. I won't let her turn in her plans at all. However, this is my plan and my plan alone. The others are too afraid to speak up.

My black cloak whips around me in the brisk night wind. I feel like one of my arena creations, waiting for the precise moment to strike. Cornelia should be arriving home any time soon. Any moment now… The clouds above obscure the moon- the lights from the Capitol hide any stars that may have shone- and make the night pitch black. Perfect. The chilling mood I need to achieve my goal. The others weren't brave enough. They design plans, not carry them out. I'm the one who started out as an arena construction worker. I clawed my way up and I'm willing to go further.

The limousine pulls up alongside the apartment building, and Miss Cornelia Thames steps out in her purple heels, alongside her fiancée Aelius Valens. No! This can't be happening- the night of the plan, she decided to take a man home with her? Just my luck. But then he only escorts her to the door of the building, and the moment of panic subsides. She'll be alone after all, and the conversation to come can really only have two participating parties. And I'm the competent one here- she was only a deputy Gamemaker when she was given her current position, not even a full designer. The deputy Gamemakers spend more time fetching food than creating the arena. They're our betas, even our omegas. It's barely more than a job title. She just had the good luck to be the favorite of her predecessor. I'm not going to be put down by this woman again.

I give her about two minutes until I step from the shadows and move silently into the shining building. Her apartment is on the third floor- quite basic living quarters for a Gamemaker. The rest of us own mansions and penthouses. I stalk up the creaking stairs until I'm on Cornelia's floor, then I locate her apartment- the fourth door on the left. Arranging my cloak and suit in a more professional manner, I knock on her door. Everything is silent for a second- she must be looking through the peephole. Or maybe she's checking a security camera. Miss Thames must have several.

A lock clicks and Cornelia Thames flings the door wide open. She has dark circles under her eyes. "Crispus! What brings you here this late night! Come in, come in." Even her voice is weary, and this woman is younger than I am by at least a decade. I step into the small living space and hang my cloak on the coat rack she points out to me. "So tell me, why are you here? I don't believe you were invited."

"The arena."

"What about it?"

"You're sending in the plans for it tomorrow."

Cornelia Thames is the only person I have ever met who has never shown signs of fear in regard to my voice. It's extremely deep, but what makes it scary is a popping, growling rasp that I obtained in a construction accident for the arena in the Sixth Games. I pride myself on my voice. "Yes, I am sending in the plans tomorrow. Your point?"

"The Gamemakers and I don't approve. We have a better idea. Use our plans and you will be fine."

"We'll use it next year, I'm sure! And what do you mean, if I change the arena at the last minute 'I'll be fine!'"

"Your idea is not satisfactory to the President."

"How do you know?" Oh, I struck a nerve with that one. Good. Her judgment will be clouded with emotion.

"He has named your successor- he chose one of us to replace you since this arena is not to his liking."

"NO! He hasn't! How do you know?" Cornelia's face is tomato red.

"He tells me these things," I feign innocence, "You mean to say he didn't tell you?" She shakes her head, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Well then…" I spread my hands as if to say nothing can change her fate.

"You're lying, Crispus Scelestiber. I don't believe you. My plans are fine, the mutts are amazing, and the traps are genius. You said so yourself!"

"Maybe that's what I was told to say by one who ranks higher than us both. Maybe you are wanted gone."

"Liar!" She slaps me across the face. Oh. So that's how this will go. I had been hoping she would be reasonable, but you can't always have your way.

"Cornelia, Cornelia, Cornelia…" This time she reacts to the quiet anger in my voice and sits down in her chair with a thud. I reach into my suit pocket and pull out a knife- the same model that Delany Lavis died on in the most recent Games. The Head Gamemaker's breath hitches in her throat. "I am the one who would take your place. Haven't you seen a second-in-command kill for power before? Why, it happens in your precious Games annually!"

"No, Crispus, you wouldn't do this. You wouldn't, we have more sense than this!"

"You quite obviously do not have sense. You could have prevented this." I advance on her with the knife raised, "I didn't want you to have to die. I don't like getting my hands dirty… in person."

Miss Thames tries to scream, but I clamp my thin hand over her mouth and pull my blade up to her throat. A quick slice right up under her jaw finishes the job without much of a struggle. And my hands are free of sticky blood. The irony makes me smirk. Because I really do dislike getting my hands dirty.

Cornelia's corpse sags to the ground as I wipe the blood from the knife with a pure white handkerchief. "President Riker and I get along so well. It's a shame you won't be around to see the best Hunger Games of them all."

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**Chaos here! Welcome to _The 18th: Standing in their Graves_. This is a sequel to _The 17th: Rubber Rooms and Deadlines_, so if you haven't read that it might be a good idea to check it out. However, it's not necessary to read RRD to understand this story as well. :) There will be some references but it will be all right.**

**Tribute List**

**District One Female: Desire Blanchard, 18 _(Cashmere67)_**

**District One Male: Ainsley Jett, 18 _(ImmyRose)_**

**District Two Female: Melody Lark, 17 _(JGrayzz)_**

**District Two Male: Andras Fey, 17 _(The Yellow Duckling)_**

**District Three Female: Cathodra Steinmetz, 18 _(Lupus Overkill)_**

**District Three Male: Phi Pandit, 15 _(Anla'shok)_**

**District Four Female: Sawyer Aurora, 18 _(SafeEyesOpen)_**

**District Four Male: Calder McCullin, 16 _(stareyed in LA)_**

**District Five Female: Marlee Stark, 17 _(LoveIsBlindness)_**

**District Five Male: Elmo Acoba, 14 _(hublub)_**

**District Six Female: Noalee Tyler, 14 _(istheplacewhereIloveyou)_**

**District Six Male: Kalen Ram, 16 _(Thomas J. Flynn)_**

**District Seven Female: Alyx Faith, 16 _(jakey121)_**

**District Seven Male: Barke St. Claire, 18 _(Acereader55)_**

**District Eight Female: Visca Martin, 14 _(Jayfish)_**

**District Eight Male: Shiloh Tyne, 15 _(JabberjayHeart)_**

**District Nine Female: Rhain Miller, 15 _(Anime'sPrincess)_**

**District Nine Male: Knox Blake, 13 _(Foxface5)_**

**District Ten Female: Inez Carmen, 18 _(LexisZ-10)_**

**District Ten Male: Aeden Arthur, 16 _(DA Member - Hogwarts)_**

**District Eleven Female: Lydia Fern, 15 _(Even when musics gone)_**

**District Eleven Male: Damien Summers, 18 _(SparrowCries)_**

**District Twelve Female: Kyra Montgomery, 15 _(our little infinity)_**

**District Twelve Male: Eris Ira, 13 _(KnockingBells)_**

**Thanks to each and every submitter: I had a very difficult time deciding which tributes to accept and I loved reading all the forms I received. The decisions I made were difficult but I do think this story will turn out wonderfully and I am eager to write! XD**

**Please review. It allows me to see which readers will keep up with the story and of course the feedback is invaluable! **


	2. District Seven Reapings

**If you've read any of Rubber Rooms and Deadlines, you will know that I enjoy writing reapings out-of-order :) So I present you with District 7, the district of trees. Tributes this year are Barke St. Claire from Acereader55 and Alyx Faith from jakey121.**

**Bear with me for the first few reapings as I get the hang of writing these things again :/ They get longer each time I write.**

**R&R!**

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DISTRICT SEVEN MALE: BARKE ST. CLAIRE

When I wake up, the first thing that I realize is that I'm not in my own bed. Of course. I'm still on the job. I begin to heave a deep breath but I freeze, realizing that the action would disturb the young woman, Miss Autumn Calloway, who is curled up at my side. One of her arms drapes over my bare chest and her head rests on my shoulder. A few strands of her dark hair tickle my nose and, eyes watering, I try my best to hold back a sneeze. I almost succeed, but a small noise still escapes and I flinch. My client stirs but fortunately she remains asleep.

I turn my gaze towards the light that filters through faded curtains and swirling dust to illuminate the bedroom. The house is quiet and peaceful, which is more than I can attribute to some of the other places I've been taken. If I had to choose, I would say that this is one of the best locations for my job.

That's not saying much, though. I hate it all. Everything to do with my terrible career is disgusting to me- and that includes myself. I feel so unclean, so perverted. And there's nothing I can do change what I have been through. I wish I could, but that's just a dream now. And my dreams always shatter and fade when I wake up with a woman- or even another man- at my side.

It's to keep my family alive. I shake away my hatred and remind myself of the reason I go out and sell myself to strangers. Father already works for fourteen hours a day in the lumberyards, Mother's pregnant and can't possibly work, and I won't let Aubrey go through this night after night. She will not sell her body as long as I have breath. She can work with the florists, she can run errands for people- but I won't let her ruin her life to try and help the family.

"I won't let her!" Too late, I realize that I have spoken aloud. I close my eyes again and try to relax as Autumn wakes up. She tilts her face up, shifting her hair away from my face.

"You awake, handsome?" she mumbles, gently tracing my jawline with one finger. I feign sleep for a few seconds before I blink and murmur something about her waking me up. She laughs lightly and rolls away from me, freeing my shoulder. I sit up quickly, faking a yawn. "I think last night was the best you've ever done," Autumn remarks sleepily, "And I didn't think you could get any better!" I turn away from her to hide my blush but I always have to pay attention to my clients sooner or later. Autumn sits up, using the bedclothes to cover herself, and whispers in my ear. "You know you liked it too."

It's not my fault I'm human.

With the pink flush on my cheeks fading, I turn back to Autumn and wink at her. "You're always talking about me like that, gorgeous. If you're not careful I won't be able to visit you anymore because the whole district will want me!"

"Oh, they already do!" she says, flinging away what false modesty she had been using and throwing herself at me in a fierce embrace, "I just want you the most." She kisses me and I halfheartedly return the favor.

After we break apart I snatch my clothes off the floor and duck into the bathroom. With my pants back on I feel a little less disgusting, but it doesn't help much. I splash some water on my face and reemerge into Autumn's bedroom. She hasn't bothered to put on any clothes, but I've gotten pretty good at keeping my eyes on her face. "Leaving so soon, Barke?" she simpers. I nod and she pouts for a moment. "Same time next week then?" I hesitate before confirming, and then leave Autumn with one last kiss.

I move from the little house as quickly as I can. People will be waking up now and I don't want to be caught like this now- leaving a woman's house, slinking back to my family, shirtless… even I have some dignity to preserve. It doesn't matter if the whole district knows about me already, I just feel better if no one sees me now. I make it to the hovel that my family calls home and slip inside before I'm seen. I lean back against the door with a sigh, the rough wood digging into my skin.

Aubrey's awake and starting to prepare the family's breakfast, humming lightly as she does so. When the door clicks shut she hurries to the front of the tiny house and smiles sadly at me. "Good to have you home," she says, running her hands through her fair hair. I rush over to her and hug her, but she squirms out of my grasp. "No hugs until you've taken a shower; you still smell like your client."

"Come on, Aubrey, you're never here when I get home! You're always helping at the flower shop in the mornings! You're only off on Reaping Day."

"We would get home at the same time if you would let me join you, it wouldn't be as hard on you and, you have to admit, the money is better than the stupid florist's pay!"

"You're not prostituting yourself. I won't let that happen." Aubrey huffs in exasperation, but secretly I'm sure she's relieved, "And don't call florists stupid, you work with Justice after all!" I can't stand talking about my job anymore. I just want to push it from my mind entirely and have fun with my baby sister.

"And you like her, don't you!" My sister rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me, but squeals when I lunge at her and hug her tightly, lifting her off the ground.

"Haha! Got you, Aubrey! That's for thinking Justice is my girlfriend!" I let her go after a few seconds and dash into the kitchen to help her with breakfast. She's already put a tray of biscuits in the oven, so I help her slice some apples.

"Barke and Justice, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Aubrey sings, waving a piece of fruit above her head.

"I swear you're not mature enough to be sixteen!" We both laugh.

"So, are Mother and Father still sleeping?"

"Yeah. Last night after you left, they said to let them be this morning. They'll be at the reaping but Father is even more exhausted than normal and Mother, well, she's on bed rest of course." I shake my head at the mention of Mother. She's only thirty-seven, but she hasn't had a child in sixteen years. Pregnancy is hard on her, especially after so many years of fatiguing work.

Aubrey pulls the biscuits out of the oven and puts them in a bowl on the table. We're about to sit down to our meager meal when I spot someone outside whom I recognize. "Hey, sis, we're going to have someone over for breakfast!" She grins as I run outside and drag the passerby indoors. The younger man begins to freak out but relaxes a little when he identifies me.

"Barke!" Stephen splutters, "Come on, I was on my way home!"

"Come on, it's food!" The seventeen-year-old shrugs and follows me to the kitchen. Aubrey smiles at him and tosses out an extra plate. Stephen pulls up a chair and sits down with us, calming down from the surprise I gave him.

He's not that easily surprised most of the time, but when you're doing the walk of shame you're jumpy no matter what. It's even worse if, like me and Stephen, you have to do it for a living. It provides more money for our families than anything else does, so it's what we resort to. He's the only source of income for his little brother and sick mother, too.

It's funny how, sometimes, the thing you hate the most can give you a close friend.

"You're looking very professional today," I quip with a mouth full of food. Stephen gives me a look but just shovels down more food.

"You look marvelous too, Mister Shirtless and Sticky-Uppy Hair!" I make a face and smooth down my light brown fringe. Aubrey snorts in laughter, but the rest of the meal is then spent in silence. None of us want to continue a conversation about my and Stephen's career.

After we're done, I wrap up the extra food in a napkin and give it to Stephen. "For your family."

"I can't take this."

"Stephen, I know for a fact that you spent all of last week's pay on medication for your mom. Take it." At last, he nods his thanks and pounds me on the back.

"See you after the reaping, then?" Aubrey and I nod; Stephen exits.

"Well, I guess we should be off then?" my sister says. I glance down at my outfit- pants are fine, lack of shirt is a little unorthodox but for me it's commonplace- before agreeing. District Seven's early reaping is always terrifying, but there's not exactly anything I can do. Hmph. Another thing I can't change.

Aubrey and I start out. Our little slum isn't too far from town, but it seems like it's miles away thanks to the fact that the only people who go out our way are the folks who live there and Peacekeepers. As I walk, I get an odd feeling. Someone is watching us. "Aubrey…" I hiss. She nods and moves a little closer to me. We keep moving, but warily.

"BOO!" someone shouts. Aubrey squeaks in fright as a mane of red hair and a pair of twinkling green eyes appear from nowhere. It's Justice, poking her head out from the trees lining the road. I double over, laughing. The lithe, light-footed girl falls into step with us and Aubrey jabs me in the side with her elbow. I poke her back and Justice smirks at us.

Justice and I have known each other from a young age, but now she's friends with Aubrey from working at the flower shop. She lives near us, but not close enough to get away with regular visits. And contrary to Aubrey's beliefs, Justice and I are just friends. Close friends who comfort each other and know everything about the other, but friends nonetheless.

The three of us chat on the walk to the town square. Aubrey and Justice keep up a running conversation about flower seeds for most of the trip.

"So, has that shipment of geraniums come in yet?" Aubrey asks.

"No, but we did get the bluebells finally." Justice works a full shift instead of two hours a day like Aubrey.

As we near the check-in stations, the topic changes. "Last year was terrible."

"I remember Laken," Aubrey says sadly, "she always was a little off in school, but then… well, we found out why at her reaping." Personally, the girl terrified me, but the little boy Rowne almost broke my heart. He was frail and young, and he died at the hands of a drunk.

The Peacekeeper glares at me when I go to get my finger pricked, and it's probably because of my lack of a shirt, but I'm told nothing.

Justice and Aubrey meet me on the other side of registration, and I hug them both. "See you later," I whisper to my sister. "And Justice, this is our last year. We can do it, I know we can." The redhead grins at me.

I settle into a spot at the edge of the eighteens section, waiting nervously. This is my last reaping. I will live. I will live!

The escort bursts onstage before the Mayor can say anything. I'm amused to see that it's the same man as before, Thunder. As always, he's dressed in storm cloud gray, but now his hair is yellow and stands on end like he's been struck by lightning.

"ARE YOU READY TO RRRUMBLE!" he booms, "LET'S MIX IT UP A LITTLE AND CHOOSE OUR BOY FIRST!" Well, he's more eager than most years.

He shoves his hand into the blue-tinted crystal bowl and selects his first victim of the day. "BARKE ST. CLAIRE!"

Well, crap. If I die my family suffers; if I win there are rewards for my district but I'm prostituted to the Capitol.

I guess I'll have to win. My family is more important than my body.

DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: ALYX FAITH

"Yes, Mother, I am finished with my meal." I wipe my hands neatly on the napkin and begin to collect my dishes from the table. My parents watch me proudly as I clear away their dirty things as well.

"Are you sure that you would not like some more eggs?" Mother frets, glancing at the half-empty bowl on the granite countertop. I nod and smile, assuring her that I am full. "I don't want you to go to the Reaping hungry, Alyx, it will make you nauseous!"

"Mother, I'm fine!"

"Brienne, let the girl alone, we can trust her with anything!" I smile at my father as I remove his plate; he pats me on the shoulder, "Thank you, Alyx." I set the dishes in the sink and turn back to the table.

"May I please take our leftovers to the poor children on the end of the street? I'm sure they're nervous about Reaping Day as well, it might be a comfort to them."

"I'm not sure, dearest. What if one of them is ill-intentioned?" Mother worries, but with some anxious conversation they agree to let me go. I cover the remaining scrambled eggs with a dishcloth and put a few croissants on top of that. This is too perfect!

I duck around the corner of the room to the entryway, where I pull a ragged pair of trousers and a dirty old shirt from under the main staircase. As quickly as I can, I strip off my nightgown and put on the street clothes. Then I pull my long brown hair back into a ponytail and rush out the door with the food. My parents never know that, while they can trust me, they don't know everything about me like they think they do.

I slip out the door and sneak partway down the street before breaking into a run. Here in the rich part of town, I could run into people who will name me as the daughter of the Faiths. Out in the poorer parts of Seven, I'm just Alyx. I'm wild and crazy and I don't have to worry about my manners.

I love my parents, I really do, but I can't put up with wealth all the time. There has to be more than money, there has to be more than the 'fun' of the upper class. It's found with the rest of the people.

In the outskirts of town people begin to recognize me. Kids from ages ten to seventeen wave and cry out, "Hey, Alyx!" I skid to a halt when they call my name, and soon my friends surround me. To them I'm from the other side of town, from the east slums instead of the west and I just keep on exploring all of the other neighborhoods. I'm not rich or special.

"Alyx, is that food?" Eleven-year-old Gamin creeps out from under a makeshift hut, his face smeared with dirt. I laugh and set down the food I've brought, and immediately it's set upon by almost a dozen hungry kids. "Where did you get this?"

"I asked," I smirk, implying that I did not, in fact, ask. The others don't question it, they're just grateful. Every so often I'll do this for them, and it makes me feel better than all the money in the world.

After less than two minutes, everything is practically licked clean. I kick the bowl and dishcloth to the side and we all huddle together. "What's the plan today?" Ashe asks eagerly, hopping from foot to foot. She's sixteen like me, but shorter and, well, less educated. Her dark hair is cropped like a boy's.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Ashe's twin brother Soot nudges me in the side as a greeting while he speaks and I elbow him back, getting a satisfactory 'oof!'. Everyone begins to offer up their ideas in a burst of mischievous imagination.

"Maybe we can explore?"

"We did that yesterday!"

"What about a race?"

"Let's find one of them," I whisper to the others excitedly, and they seem to agree.

Talia, our unofficial leader at the age of seventeen, points us on our course. "I saw one go that way about fifteen minutes ago," she informs us. Whooping, the entire group dashes off into the dense forest. Man, my parents would have hysterics if they ever saw me doing this! It makes me a little sad, but what they don't know can't hurt them. Right?

We split up as we pursue our quarry, with the younger kids up in the trees and the older, heavier teens on foot. Talia and I lead the way on the ground, and I can see Gamin and little Tarie up above, skittering from branch to branch.

"There! Coming towards us!" Tarie hisses from above, pointing ahead. Everyone on the ground stops and dives into the bushes; those in the trees bound higher into the branches, concealing themselves with foliage. When the Peacekeeper walks into the area, no one is visible. The man is completely unaware of us.

That is, until Gamin drops a pinecone on his helmet. It doesn't do any harm, but the man's reaction is priceless. I stifle a giggle as one of the other 'monkeys' unleashes fire, five crabapples bouncing off the Peacekeeper's suit. Then one of the grounders snorts like a wild boar, and the man whirls around. I yip, imitating a feral dog, and Talia's grackle caw makes him whirl around. More ammunition rains down from above, and we keep up a constant stream of noise. Every so often someone will insult the Peacekeeper, but he can't tell where it comes from in the noise. I giggle, throwing my own epithets into the mix.

"Lapdog!"

"Fatty!"

"Bastard!"

"Lazybones!" All insults hit home just like the pinecones did, until…

"Coward!" I shout a little too loudly and he zeroes in on my location. Storming to the bushes, he pushes the leaves aside to show my hiding place. Snarling, he lifts me into the air by the front of my shirt. Even though I'm taller than most girls, I'm hoisted into the air so that I'm dangling inches off the ground. I squirm, but to no avail.

"No!" Tarie drops down from the branches and lands squarely on the Peacekeeper. He crumples beneath her unexpected weight and I collapse with him. Tarie scrambles away and I'm not far behind.

"Wow, Tarie," Soot says as he steps from his place, "You knocked him unconscious. He'll be fine in a little while, but…" he whistles in surprise. Everyone emerges from the trees to see the damage. A bit of blood mats the hair on the side of the Peacekeeper's head.

We never actually hurt them. Never! It's just a game… "I've got to go." Talia and Gamin raise their hands in farewell, but I'm already dashing through the trees, running away from the fact that we actually hurt someone. And he was bleeding! That's terrible!

I grab the egg bowl and run back to my house as fast as possible. I slip inside quietly and change back into my nightgown from my street clothes. I'm not going to let a little upset ruin my secret today. "I'm back!" I announce, placing the bowl and dishcloth back in the kitchen. Before my parents respond, however, I hurry to my room and get ready for the reaping. This is the other side of me, the perfect side that I wish could have all the fun that poor Alyx does.

I wash the dirt from my fair skin before putting on a yellow dress that falls to my knees and brushing out my hair. As I apply my routine makeup, I push all thoughts of the unconscious Peacekeeper from my head, composing myself before attending the Reaping with my rich friends.

"Are you ready to go, Alyx?" my mother calls, and I hurry downstairs. We are anxious, but they worry for me and I for my friends. The odds are in my favor, but Talia? Soot? Ashe? They will need all the help they can get.

We exit the house and turn in different directions- my mother, with her job as a maid to the Mayor's family, is going to the Justice Building to prepare; Father is going to find a spot in the crowd; I am going to register and to find Maybelle and Clara. As it turns out, my to-do list is completed almost instantaneously. Maybelle and Clara, each wearing cute dresses and perfect makeup, are waiting for me at registration. I rush over to them.

"Alyx! You look adorable!" Maybelle gushes, touching the shoulder of my dress admiringly. Clara bounces around me in her lilac frock, bursting with nervous energy. We check in, and Maybelle bids us goodbye immediately, wanting to get to her section with plenty of time to spare.

"Clara, are you still thinking about running away?" I whisper. She nods cautiously. "Well, down in the west side slums, I have friends. If you run, find Talia. She'll help you." I begin to head off to the sixteens.

Ever since I mentioned one of my escapades, Clara has been convinced that she could find so much more among the poor than among the privileged. At last, I've chosen to help her.

"Hey, Alyx?" I turn to Clara. "Let's go stand with Maybelle!" I laugh and grab the younger girl's hand as we enter the seventeen-year-olds section.

"Speaking of Talia…" I point out the Hispanic girl to Clara, who takes note. Maybelle comes up behind us as we're looking around.

"What are you doing here? You need to be with your age group, you're breaking the rules!"

"Too late," Clara smirks as the Mayor steps up for the Treaty of Treason. Maybelle sighs melodramatically.

But the lady never gets a chance to speak. Thunder, our theatric escort, leaps forward. "ARE YOU READY TO RRRUMBLE? LET'S MIX IT UP AND CHOOSE OUR BOY FIRST!"

Please not Soot. Not Soot.

Next year I'll have to worry about Gamin as well, but this year… not Soot. Not Soot.

"BARKE ST. CLAIRE!" I breathe a sigh of relief, although I feel terrible for it. A tall, shirtless boy steps forward. He's kinda cute, actually. Definitely a sponsor magnet. He stands on the steps of the Justice Building, emotionless.

"OUR LADY, NOW!" I join hands with Maybelle and Clara anxiously, but I'm panicking that it may be Talia or Ashe. At least Tarie is safe this year.

"ALYX FAITH!" What? W-what? The world starts to spin, faster and faster until tears rise up behind my eyes. This… this isn't… no, it can't be! I'm going to die!

I take a deep breath. I won't get any sponsors if I break down immediately. With shaky steps I move forward, trying to hold my head high. Nearer and nearer to the steps, nearer and nearer to the Capitol, the Games, and my doom. I turn at last to face the crowd. I can see the others: Gamin and Tarie in the crowd, Soot and Ashe and Talia.

They're all confused. Why are they so bewildered? They know me, why are they confused?

Oh. They don't know me. I'm Rich Alyx now; none of them have ever met Rich Alyx. They probably won't even come say goodbye to me. They don't know me like this.

My best friends don't even know me.

With that knowledge I turn to Barke and shake his hand. "Good luck," I whisper.

It's for both of us.

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**It has begun! Ahaha, I probably get high from writing. XD **

**By the way, here's what I'll do with the reapings: I will spend the most time on things that show a tribute's personality. So if you would see more of a tribute that morning, I'll write about that morning. If you'd see more about a tribute during the reaping ceremony, I'll spend a lot of time at the reaping. If a tribute is best revealed during goodbyes, you'll get goodbyes. Rarely will I write these chapters about events that do not happen the day of the reaping, but I might. It depends. :)**

**Tell me what you thought of Barke and Alyx! :)**


	3. District Two Reapings

**This reaping actually matches up with its normal location XD District Two, everyone! Our girl Melody Lark is from JGrayzz and our boy Andras Fey is from The Yellow Duckling.**

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DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: MELODY LARK

I'm switching the television between two channels- the only two channels that we actually receive, and it's one more than the rest of the district. We only get the news reports because Ebony is a Peacekeeper. We barely can afford a television anyway, but Father insists.

The other channel is my favorite, and it runs almost constantly. The replays of the Hunger Games. Right now the Seventeenth Games are playing and I watch them eagerly. They aren't the most gruesome and the tributes aren't the most entertaining, but they are the most recent. The idiots in the other districts will have this freshest in their minds, so knowing these Games will give me a head start on knowing the other tributes and their weaknesses. I watch and smile as our tribute Flavia cuts at the boy from Ten. She was good, even if she couldn't control herself. She was the only trained tribute with any sort of ambition, especially after the others went around refusing to kill. Stupid, all of them.

I switch back to the news reports after the cannon fires.

_"The body of miss Ravine Thomson was found today in an alleyway not far from the Peacekeeper Academy. This is the third murder District Two has seen in five weeks, but two men have already been arrested near the scene. The killer, we think, has been apprehended at last." _I smirk. Probably not.

_A Peacekeeper speaks. "We found the body still warm. There are blows to the head and slash marks on the torso and neck. An anonymous tip led us to two brothers who are known thieves; they have been taken into custody."_

Just then my brother strides into the house, glances at the television screen, and throws his head back in raucous laughter.

"It was you."

"Of course it was! Better than the rest, too, I should say. She put up a fight."

"Ebony, one of these days you'll be caught."

"As an honest and reliable Peacekeeper, I can say that I will not be apprehended. I'm too good at framing others." He goes into the kitchen to wash his hands, and I see dried blood underneath his fingernails. It's at times like these when I both envy and ridicule my twin. He doesn't wear gloves but he's never caught.

"So you say she put up a fight?"

"Yeah, she was armed with a small knife. Almost scratched me, too. But the killing! She convulsed until the very end, none of that sinking quietly to the ground. Lilith, you should join me. Your switch may not come back on when you need it."

"What are you saying? That I'm getting weak? I have a mask to hide behind, and Melody doesn't need a murder on her record. I kill plenty of animals. And we both know that I'm better at turning my switch on and off than you ever will be." It's a simple fact. Father taught us to destroy our empathy and compassion, but ever since that lesson Ebony hasn't even tried to disguise it. I'm better at all of this.

"Well, no matter how good you are at hiding your true self, Lilith, you'll be in the Games now and you won't need a façade. You'll be free!"

"I still have to volunteer."

"Well, there won't be any competition."

"What? Of course there will be!"

"Ravine is dead, you know. That's fifty percent of the competition right there. And the other part is Granite Tanner's kids, and they'll be weak after their compatriot's death last year." I nod, now seeing why Ebony chose Ravine as a target.

She always used to tease me about being a little fallen angel too small to pick up a weapon.

I was going to scar her in the fight to volunteer.

"Brother, this will make Father very proud."

"Yes. We'll tell him after, then?" Just as he speaks, I hear footsteps from Father's room. Quickly switching back to the Hunger Games reruns, where Luis Thomsen is being ripped to shreds by hyenas, we stop all talk of murder. On such a day as this, Father will want us to be focused on the Games and volunteering above all else.

Of course only I will need to be focused; Ebony has found his call with the Peacekeepers and his murders.

"Ah, my children. How good it is to see you both prepared for the Games already." True, Ebony and I are already dressed in our nicest clothes. "I take it I will have kin in the arena this year?" We slowly nod. Father smiles but does not hug us or otherwise show the fatherly love I faintly recall from him.

I am a future victor, born better than all of the scum in Panem and a natural killing machine. I do not need love. There is only victory and death. Fatherly love, hah! Father is a mentor and instructor for my training. Love is not an emotion that I feel any longer.

It is time to go. Father sends Ebony and me out of the house and to the square, to take our places and prepare for the ceremony. He will follow later on, but he needs to prepare his image as well. We will appear perfect, so our looks reflect our skills. Blond hair, blue eyes. All of us. It is the best image for a trained tribute.

The name 'Career' has spread quickly through the districts. Even here in Two people use it frequently. I will not. It is demeaning and, furthermore, it was coined by a stupid, lower-district, dark-haired boy. Not someone I will accept slang from, not at all.

Ebony and I reach the registration table, where I become Melody. I smile at the Peacekeeper as she pricks my finger. It doesn't hurt at all. Father has effectively trained us in pain resistance. The woman is dark-skinned with black hair, an inferior person, but as Melody I show respect and kindness to all. Ebony knows the woman, and he isn't as nice to her as I am but he too controls his true feelings.

"Hey, Azelma, how are you?"

"Fine, Ebony. You? It's your second-to-last reaping, do you plan to volunteer?"

"Naw, but my sister does."

Azelma glances at me, surprised. "Oh, really? Well, the best of luck to you, miss… Melody Lark."

Everyone knows me as Melody. My fake image has made her name real, even if the rest of her is a falsehood. Ebony and I walk side by side to the section roped off for the seventeen-year-olds. Boys on one side of the aisle, girls on the other. A few people stand around, mostly chattering with each other, but Ebony and I stand quietly in the sections. Waiting, observing, judging, but not socializing.

A girl with ugly brown hair and hazel eyes bounces up to me. "Melody, did you hear? Ravine died! We don't know who plans to volunteer!" She's so friendly and happy. I don't know why someone hasn't slit her throat yet.

I paste a smile on my face. "I might. At least, I think so! It would be so nice to get out of poverty. My brother and my dad would have somewhere to go, at least. And we'd be safe forever!"

"Well, good luck, Melody!" She leans in closer, "I heard that Anna and Darla- you know, the girls that Granite Tanner trained, right- don't plan to volunteer. The spot is basically wide open." I gasp and open my eyes wide.

"Oh my gosh! Really? That's crazy! I wonder who else will try to get the spot?"

"Personally I hope it's not you who gets up there first. No offense or anything, but you're not that strong. I don't want to see you die like Flavia Baxter." She rolls her eyes.

Good. People still don't see the real me. "So, what about you? Any plans to volunteer?"

"No, not me! I'm fine where I am with my family and all." She smiles again.

What a tool. Little idiot, just waiting to be taken advantage of. If you don't train, you don't go anywhere in life. I listen to her talk about her little sisters for a few minutes, all the while watching the other girls who stream in to the square. Tall, strong, muscular. Some may want to be in these Games, but some may have just had Peacekeeper training. I'm faster than all of them, that's for sure.

With the square full of teenagers, the Mayor steps forward to read the Treaty of Treason. I know most of the words, but Father made us learn it by heart years ago. I'm losing my touch in this respect. Oops. Well, at least it won't matter in the Games. I only care about the Games.

Our escort steps up to the microphone daintily. I'm fooled again. This is his second year working in District Two, and for the second year I thought he was a woman. That's more amusing than annoying, so I let it slide. Again, at this point only the Games matter.

"Let us choose our fabulous female tribute first!" he squeals with delight. I take a deep breath. "Charlotte Mason!" A sixteen year old steps out, all red hair and freckles. Inwardly, I scoff. She's so unprepared; she's anxious to the point of trembling. Stupid girl, just because Ravine was disposed of doesn't mean no one will volunteer for you!

Nobody breaks the tension to try and volunteer early. Good. We let Charlotte suffer in silence before our sketchy escort asks, "Are there any volunteers?"

A pack bursts forth from the eighteens, but I've left them in the dust. With my speed I easily outpace the volunteers and stand onstage proudly. Murmurs whip through the crowd. Why is this fragile, angelic girl onstage as tribute?

Because to them I'm Melody Lark. I am here for the money.

But I'm here as Lilith. I'm here for my father's sake. But that's my little secret. "I'm Melody Lark," I say sweetly to the escort, "and I'm here to try my best!" The man seems to think of me like a hopeless little thing, and I'm surprised that he doesn't try to pat me on the head. Instead, he moves to the boys' reaping ball and picks out a name swiftly.

"Watcher Tanner!" Ah, one of the infamous Tanner trained tributes. Guess he won't be coming with me.

Nobody disturbs the boy's progress, although it seems like only one other boy plans to volunteer anyway. Another Tanner kid, I think. He holds his head high, ready to surge forward.

"Are there any volunteers?"

The other Tanner boy- Pik?- moves, but suddenly he's down on all fours, gasping for breath. Someone punched him in the gut. I snicker. If he meant to volunteer, he just lost everything he was striving for. He doesn't bother to rise to his feet. He knows he's been humiliated more than his reputation can withstand.

It's a seventeen year old who dashes forward in his place. I can say he's not bad-looking for a tribute, although his unruly dark blond hair could stand to be a lighter shade. Definitely not stupid, though- he's been trained.

"I'm Andras Fey," he announces, "and you suckers are going to get it." With that, he gives the entire district the finger and turns to me with a smirk on his face. I shake his hand while still wearing an innocent smile; he seems to fall for my Melody's act, but his blue-gray eyes still flash. Not with anger or suspicion, but like he has an idea and that I'm another pawn for him to use.

He'll soon think differently, of course.

We go into the Justice Building, where we are supposed to meet our friends and family. Ebony and Father come in, but there's not much to say. Goodbye, mostly. I have done what I was raised to do. They leave. No one else will come. I press my ear against the door, though, when I hear faint voices in the outer room.

It's Father. "You do know that if she wins, I'll dispose of her. She'll be too overwhelmed with bloodlust to be stable."

It can't be me, can it? I'm always in control.

DISTRICT TWO MALE: ANDRAS FEY

He's not at home. Of course he isn't. Just peachy- on Reaping Day, the one day we swore to meet at a set location, he's not here. I groan and glance around, looking for any signs of where he might have gone.

I should have expected this, of course. My Grant is never where he's expected to be. Never. But there are a few places where one can look for him: my house is one, but he's certainly not there now; he's not at his house either, which is where he is supposed to be.

That leaves the bar, the alley behind the bar, and the stocks at the prison. I roll my eyes and tuck my hands in my jean pockets, reluctant to visit the stocks. They're on the way to the bar, so distance isn't an issue, but the Peacekeepers who patrol the area will recognize me and I can't have that. Even if Grant is in the stocks today I don't want to join him.

If he's there I'd have to go fetch his mom and ask her to get him out, and we know from experience that it isn't fun.

Reaching the area, I creep past the stocks once two Peacekeepers have passed. There's Race, arrested two days ago for drug possession; Lupe is there too. Probably taken in for suspected theft again. Atta girl. We'll have to get them out soon, but I can't risk it immediately.

Grant is nowhere to be seen, though. Good. There will be no awkward rescue on Reaping Day. I'm just about to slip away when two more Peacekeepers step into view. Crap, they must have doubled patrols for the reaping ceremony. I freeze where I stand, but of course it doesn't help me. I'm spotted immediately.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" Well, forget being inconspicuous.

They're really just asking for it, now, aren't they? I decide to go over the top with my response. I need a little bit of fun today. "Better that I should ask you what you are doing? Planning the deaths of these common folk? Are you that much better than us, Peacekeepers? Capitol-bred, always doing their bidding. You are no better than a pup groveling at its master's feet!" Call it a weakness, but I cannot resist taunting the Peacekeepers. They 'keep us in line', but they better their lot through us.

They gave me the scars that I still bear. I was no more than seven, they tried to talk to me and I talked back, they tried to get me to follow them and train and accept orders. I refused. One lost his temper and hit me. From that day I have a patch of scar tissue on my shoulder and hatred in my heart.

"It's him again," one of the men whispers to his partner, "that Fey kid who always tries to stir up trouble!" Turning to me, he continues with a snicker, "We're patrolling, rebel boy, and you're obviously waiting to be arrested." They advance on me, and I hold my position until they're almost in arm's reach. Then, as they swipe at me, I duck and crush one's foot with my own. In return I get a blow to the jaw, but, mouth bleeding, I laugh and spit in their faces.

I break away before any more blows land on my body and begin to run.

"Fey!" They chase me, but I know the back alleys much better than they do and I've lost them in minutes. Fortunately they will not follow me far since they are bound to their duty at the detention center, but my path to the bar will be slow and careful now.

I use the dirtiest paths and narrowest, most untrustworthy alleys to ensure my safety from Peacekeepers. All types of shady characters hide back here, but I'm comfortable in their territory. They understand and even support my little crusade against the Capitol. The Capitol has put them in these dank streets; it has taken away all they cared about and like me, they want revenge. With my parents in the dark, I have formed alliances with the others. I'm at home in the underbelly of the District, where the outcasts band together. Grant and I are accepted as we are.

There's the bar at last, Grant's happy place. I check the street for Peacekeepers- it's empty- and then duck inside the cramped little pub.

A few people nod at me, but no one offers me a drink. I've been here so many times looking for Grant and consequently refused so many pints that people have taken the hint and just stopped asking. With the group of enemies that I have, I need my wits about me all the time.

Luckily for Grant, he stays in the shadows and so doesn't have his own personal nemeses. He can keep up his drinking all he likes and, for the most part, stay unharmed. He'll get punished every once in a while for unruly behavior, though. Sometimes I don't know why I love him.

He's asleep at a small table in the corner with a half-empty bottle still clutched in his hand. I nudge him. "Grant." No response. I poke him harder. Nothing. "Grant!" I kick him. Still dead to the world, fantastic. Finally I just pull his chair out from under him and let him flop to the ground. He regains consciousness as his chin clips the edge of the table and I laugh heartily.

"Well, aren't you just lovely today," Grant says dryly, pressing a hand to his head, "What did you do, slam my face in a wall?" He doesn't make a move to rise from the floor, just reaches for his bottle. I snatch it away before he grabs it.

"Reaping Day. We can't have you any more hung over." Grant scoffs but I toss his bottle to the side. "Come on, let's get going."

"Andras…" He stretches his other hand towards me. I roll my eyes but grab his forearm to help pull him up. He leans on me as we exit the tavern and lays an arm across my shoulders. Grant actually has it in him to be really sweet sometimes. When he's truly sober or really drunk he's cynical, but in between I remember why I started to like him. And as we've gotten closer his bitterness is just as endearing as his gentler emotions.

"Hey," I say softly. Grant glances at me with a new glint of sobriety in his eyes. He didn't drink as much as usual. Good. "I managed to get into trouble with the Peacekeepers again this morning, so let's try to lie low for the day." He nods.

"Hope you didn't have too much of a good time without me."

"Didn't even mean to start it, dude. Just ran into a couple while I was looking for you." Grant chuckles, but almost trips in his drunken stride. I catch his hand with mine and hold him upright. In this manner we proceed to the reaping.

The Peacekeeper at registration narrows her eyes when she sees us, but this is a special ceremony. She can't do anything to us, not now. I smirk at her frustration as she draws my blood and then Grant's. They may try to catch us after the reaping, but we'll disappear into the shadows.

We stand beside each other in the seventeen-year-old section, Grant swaying slightly but not willing to use me as support in front of so many others. During the Treaty of Treason, though, he staggers and I am the one who reaches out again to help him. I hear a jeering hiss from somewhere behind us. "_Gay!_"

"You know, it would be a great thing if we could show them the truth- that we aren't so wrong after all," Grant quietly remarks. He keeps his hand on my shoulder after that.

A girl comes forward now. She looks like a sweet kid, all slender and fragile and light hair and eyes. I never would have expected someone like her to volunteer. The escort moves to select a boy- Watcher Tanner- but I'm not focused.

_It would be a great thing if we could show them the truth- that we aren't so wrong after all._ What if? If I could display the truth, Grant and I wouldn't be shunned and people would see the monstrosity that the Capitol is. How could I manage something like that? How?

"Are there any volunteers?" There's one way to get my message across. One way that all of Panem will hear, listen, and understand. I'm strong enough. Years of training that my parents insisted on and years of fights and years of helping Grant get out of bars. And I will succeed.

I push my way to the edge of the section, leaving a bewildered Grant behind. A kid is stepping up to the stage, ready to take the place of tribute. I move into the aisle and punch the older teen in the stomach. He sinks to the ground, shaken, and a wave of triumph and sheer adrenaline at my opportunity washes over me. I clamber onstage as quickly as I can.

"I'm Andras Fey," I smirk, "and you suckers are going to get it." I flip off the cameras, hoping that my message will get across to the Peacekeepers, Capitol bigwigs, and everyone who's ever made fun of me. After shaking hands with the Melody girl, I turn to go into the Justice Building.

_Justice_ Building. That's a funny one.

I shoot a last glance out to the crowd. Grant's there, staring after me looking abandoned.

He has to understand. This is for us, and for all the other outcasts.

He's the first one into the Visiting Room, and for a guy who was dead drunk half an hour ago, he's pretty lively.

"Andras!"

"You know I'm strong. We both know that I can do this. Come on, Grant, it's to make the others see."

"Well, maybe some of us don't want to see you die."

"I won't."

"Isn't that what they all say? Isn't it?" Grant's blazing with raw hurt now.

"I wouldn't lie to you!"

"Andras… I don't want you to change like all the other Victors."

"I'll always be me. No matter what they throw at me, I will remain Andras Fey. I have a cause. That will keep me sane."

"But… but… I can't watch you die."

"So you don't believe I can win. You don't believe in me. You never were one for blind faith, Grant. You've never really trusted in anything." I thought he of all people would never give up on me.

"Andras. _I believe in you_. I do! Just don't leave me now." There's a desperation in his voice that I've never heard before.

"I promise, I'll come back. I will. I always come back for you."

And then we're hugging, just holding on to each other as tight as we can, afraid to let go for fear that we will never return. I can feel Grant's tears drip onto my shoulder, and I am tempted to run away right then and never go to the Games and never cause my best friend pain again. But I've gone too far now, I'm rooted to the spot and I just can't let go. I press my left arm against Grant's back and gently stroke his hair with my right hand, holding him close to me forever. If this is a last memory, I want it to etch itself into my mind. Soon, though, we cannot embrace any longer and so we let go, kneeling on the ground with our foreheads pressed together and our hands on each other's shoulders.

"I believe in you," Grant whispers. I smile faintly.

Then I lean forward, just a bit, and press my lips against his. It's not the first kiss we've shared, but it's the first I've ever given.

I am cut to the core when I realize it might also be my last.

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**This district was so much fun to write. Although I did have to delve into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul to find that hug/kiss. Guys, believe it or not, I don't write romance. XD **

**Please tell me what you thought of Melody and Andras! :)**


	4. District Twelve Reapings

**Onto the next District, then! Welcome to Twelve, everybody :) Thanks to KnockingBells for our boy Eris Ira and to our little infinity for our girl Kyra Montgomery!**

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DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: ERIS IRA

It's the rain that wakes me up. I struggle to consciousness as the pounding rhythm beats against the dirty window. The clouds are dark gray, the color of the eyes of Seam dwellers. The exact same shade as my father's eyes. But my father isn't stormy, not at all.

Even if it's raining hard, the water will make the flowers grow and maybe even turn the grass green again. It's been so dry this summer that the rain will wash the district clean. After the rain stops, everything will be fresh. And everyone will be happy and laughing.

Except, they won't. The reaping is today, and two teenagers are going to be chosen to go to the Hunger Games. So far, they've all died. Every last one of them, even Luis and Sara from last year. Luis made it all the way to the top three. I think District Twelve is due for a victor. We need some hope. The people here are too sad all the time, and it seems like only a select few see the good in people.

Even we haven't found the good in the Hunger Games yet. There has to be something, right? If they were totally evil the Capitol wouldn't have come up with them. Right?

I toss the bedclothes away from my legs and sit up. "Whoa!" I yelp, seeing my younger sister Ode standing right beside my bed.

"Eris!" she cries, "Finally!" I fall back on the worn, lumpy mattress, breathing hard with shock. That kid is so quiet she sneaks up on me without giving me the faintest alert! At last I calm down and stand up. "Will you play with me?" she pleads, clasping her hands together. I sigh and roll my eyes. However much I'm embarrassed playing princess or make-believe- same thing, really, we may not be starving but we're not rich- Ode is my sister and you don't take family for granted.

I follow her to her room and flop down on the floor, reluctantly awaiting the inevitable castles, fairies, and magic that will wash me away in a little-sister deluge. However, I suddenly have a face full of Ode's brown hair and I can feel her eyelashes tickling my cheek. "It's Reaping Day," she reminds me, "It's scary."

"Aw, Ode, don't worry. You're too little to be chosen."

"But you're not!" she wails, "You're thirteen! You might get chosen!" I gently push her away from me.

"Look, Ode, I'll be fine. The odds are in my favor. I'm only thirteen, after all, and I haven't had to take much tesserae. My name's in there what, five or six times?" I grin. I mean, two kids will have to go anyway, but one of them… one of them could win. And Twelve would have a victor at last.

But at least one will die…

I focus on Ode as she pulls out her make-believe equipment. Bits of sparkly cloth, a wooden 'magic wand', a wilted dandelion crown. "So what are we playing today, Ode?" I ask.

My sister turns to me with an impish grin. "You decide!"

"Dragons and knights!" I'm ecstatic. I've never gotten to choose the game before.

"And princesses!" There's the catch. Whatever I suggest… and princesses. I shrug and agree, just happy that I got a little bit of choice in the decision. Ode slips into a raggedy old pink tutu that was our mom's before the Dark Days. "You wear this!" she gives me a wooden bowl to put on my head.

"The knight's helmet?" She nods, proud of her thinking. I set the upturned bowl over my short dark hair and snatch up the 'magic wand'. A sword, perhaps, against the dragon?

Ode doesn't see my logic. "What are you doing?" she screeches, "That's a magic wand! You're a knight!" She's so particular about her props.

"What if I'm a magic knight?"

She considers it for a moment. "I guess. Knights can be magic. You can beat the dragon easier." She drags a rickety old chair to the center of the room and drapes a dark green shirt over it. "This is the dragon! You fight it and save me, the princess, from its cave!"

I grin. "You've got it, Princess Ode!" With a ferocious swing, I rap the stick on the chair.

Ode forgets her place as prisoner and leaps up from behind the chair, dancing and giggling. "Get him, Eris! Get him!" I attack the chair from all sides, jabbing and poking with the stick. Ode narrates. "He's breathing fire!" I duck. "He's biting at you!" I scamper backwards. "He's using his spiky tail!" I swipe at the ground with the stick, pretending to chop at a scaly tail. "You got him, Eris! Keep fighting!"

At last Ode decides that the dragon's had enough. "Finish him, Sir Magic Knight!" I step up to the chair.

"Abracadabra!" I use my foot to knock the chair over and Ode, not having predicted the motion, squeals in delight. I rush over to her and hug her. "You're saved, Princess Ode!" She laughs, squirming a little until she can knock the wooden bowl off my head. I make a face at her, but that only serves to make her laugh harder.

"It's time for Princess Ode and Knight Eris to come to breakfast!" a voice sounds from the door. Mom and Dad are standing there, anxious but happy. They're always happy. It makes me glad that I've got happy parents; if I didn't I would have never learned joy.

I race off to my room to change before the meal. My reaping clothes this year are a blue collared shirt and brown pants that, I'm amused to discover, match the color of my numerous freckles. Arriving downstairs, I give Mom and Dad hugs and sit at the table to eat.

We're not far into the meal when I catch Mom gazing at me. "Mom, are you all right?"

"Just worried, Eris, like every other parent in the district," she replies airily, trying to brush off the implication of the Games.

"Beryl, don't worry," Dad booms, "Eris will be fine! The odds are very much in his favor, and we all know that he'll be fine." I grin at Dad, but now anxiety still nags at me. If Mom is so afraid, then how can we all be flippant and lighthearted? What if I am chosen? What if I die?

I won't die. I won't be chosen. It doesn't make sense for me to be chosen. Our meal is continued in silence until someone knocks on the door. "Eris, I think that's for you," Dad says. I push my chair back from the table and say goodbye to my family. "We'll see you later, son!"

At the door waits my friend Gala, already jittery with thoughts of the reaping. "Hi!" I greet the older girl, "Ready to go?" She nods, smiling faintly, and we set out. I'm drenched from the second I emerge from the house.

"So, y-you prepared for your se-se-second reaping?"

"Yep. Hey, did you realize that, after today, you'll have two reapings left but I'll have only finished two?"

"Uh-huh!" Gala laughs at the coincidence. "And, after today, we've g-got another year to f-fool around!"

"Maybe we'll find an underground path that goes all the way to the Capitol!"

"Maybe w-we'll find a way to g-go back in time!"

"Maybe we'll see a giant!"

"Maybe pe-people will realize that I'm n-not different. Maybe we'll m-make more friends." I have lots of friends, but Gala only has me. And I'm a little kid to her. I want her to have more friends too.

"Maybe they'll take away the Games."

"That would be pr-pretty c-cool," Gala agrees, "Well, except for the f-fact that the G-Games are in summer anyway."

There's a fairly long line at the registration table by the time Gala and I have meandered our way to the town square, but we don't really care. In fact, Gala remembers something. "Hey, Eris, my brother's toy train broke, do you think you could do something about it?" I gladly accept the little wooden machine that Gala pulls from her bag and look at it. It's made of lots of little parts, and something inside has stopped one of the axles from rotating.

As the line moves forward, I jam my finger up into the toy and work it around, looking for a small piece lying loose inside. There! Right to the side of my finger. It probably just needs to be pushed back to the side, but I can't reach it at the odd angle I stuck my finger in.

"Eris… don't do that. I know what you're thinking!" Gala warns, grabbing my wrist. No use! I jerk my hand to the side and gasp; my finger is broken. It never feels good and I can never get it to heal quite right. All my digits are crooked. But I easily wedge the piece into place and yank my finger out.

"Here you go," I say, handing the fixed toy back to Gala. She sticks it in her bag, glaring at me.

"You didn't have to break a finger to fix it," she hisses, grabbing at my hand. Wincing, I pop the bones back into line and hold it straight. I can shrug off the pain after three years of fixing tiny things in this manner, but it still hurts.

I give a different finger to the Peacekeeper at registration, and then obediently trot off to my place. Gala's blending in with the other sixteen-year-old girls, and I can't see her over or through anyone. The downside to being small, I guess, although the rain doesn't help either. I hope she'll be all right alone for a while.

The other boys in my section know me as a friend and they greet me brightly.

"Hey, guys." I stand next to one called Novas, who's a little moody but today he's scared like everyone else. He nods a greeting to me, though, and I smile at everyone. I don't want anyone to be afraid.

The mayor steps up to read the Treaty of Treason. I can almost taste the tension in the air, among the crowd of parents and the mass of eligible teenagers. The fear is more painful than my broken finger, and I can't help but be swept away by fright. What if I am chosen?

I find my parents and sister in the crowd. It's comforting to know that they always will be there, waiting for me and believing in me. I feel safe when I know that they love me.

The escort is the same as last year. The exact same. She's wobbly on tall purple shoes and she still has the lime-green skin and purple makeup as last time.

"Welcome, district Twelve, to the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games reaping! It is time to select your two wonderful tributes! I, Livia Verity, will be choosing the names of the two young people to compete." She steps to one of the huge spheres full of names. "Ladies first!" Her neon green hand plunges into the bowl and I can see purple nails brush against the inside edge as she selects an unlucky girl. "Kyra Montgomery!" I feel terrible for being glad that it was someone other than Gala. No one should have to participate in the Games.

No one steps forward. Chirping birds are all I can hear. Everyone is still. "Kyra Montgomery!" A stir in the fifteens section alerts the Peacekeepers, but a girl steps out before they have to go get her. Shaky and nervous, she comes to the stage. Livia is relieved. Patting the girl on the head absentmindedly, she goes to the boys' bowl.

I don't want to see someone chosen for the Games. Livia is at the microphone, unfolding the name she has selected. "ERIS IRA!" She announces the tribute with such fervor that it's obvious she's hoping for a better entrance than Kyra's.

Nobody steps forward. Because… because… that's me. I can't do anything but blink. What? No! The odds were in my favor. I wasn't going to be chosen… I was safe! But my feet move forward without my consent, and I smile at Kyra as I shake her hand onstage.

I look towards my family as Livia announces our names one last time.

I will not die. I will live. I will come home, the first thirteen-year-old victor and the first winner from District Twelve.

DISTRICT TWELVE FEMALE: KYRA MONTGOMERY

"Daly! Daly, wait!" I dash after my friend as she charges through the coal-dusted streets. We're in the poorest parts of town now, and it's all dim and melancholy and raining. I don't like it as much as she does down these alleys. I'm not as comfortable. I don't trust myself around all these strangers.

"Oh, come on, Kyra, let's go!" The other girl has stopped running, but her energy has not abated one whit. She's standing, grinning, while the rain streams down her short blond hair into her eyes. I hurry to catch up to my friend. The people in the nearby houses can hear us and they seem almost angry with us. Maybe for being noisy? Maybe for contrasting so sharply with the dreariness of reaping day? Maybe even because Daly and I are obviously merchant's kids who have so much less of a chance at being reaped than their own children?

I can't say, but I dash forward to my adventurous friend, keeping my eyes on the glistening gravel beneath my feet. I may not have a clue why the people around us are so uptight all of a sudden, but I can still have a good time with my best friend.

"Why are we even out this far, Daly?" I ask, panting. The other girl slings an arm around my shoulders and points ahead. I perk up almost instantaneously when I realize where my friend is leading me. "The fence? We're going to the fence?"

"Yeah! This is our midway reaping. I thought that, well, we should go to the edge of the district just in case we don't have another chance." I grin at Daly, bouncing a little bit with enthusiasm. We've been running for a while now, in our reaping clothes even, but this is worth it!

We're past the houses now, in the dreary area right next to the fence where nobody goes and where nobody cares what happens. It's the most exciting place I've ever been.

Daly and I step right up to the chain link barrier, listening to the steady hum of electricity racing through the metal. It would be so easy to slip across without that electric shock waiting for you, but it's pointless wishing that the electricity would go off. They've been really careful about barriers ever since the Dark Days and the destruction of Thirteen; that's what we learned in school anyway.

"What do you think is on the other side?" I wonder aloud.

"I don't know or even care," Daly replies, "I mean, even coming here is a one-time thing. We ran for a long time to get all the way out to the fence."

I'm so close to the fence that the buzz seems to be moving through my body and not just the border between Twelve and the unknown. "Imagine. A whole world out there that we'll never even know." There are trees, that I can see, but beyond the first few rows shadow envelopes the forest and I can see no more.

"Kyra!" Daly shoves me backwards, away from the fence, "You almost got yourself electrocuted!"

"Sorry… I just want to know. It's so fun to dream about places, isn't it? Other districts, even the Capitol!"

"Naw. It's fun to explore places. If you can't go there and see it yourself, you might as well stick to the paths beneath your feet." I shrug and begin to follow Daly back through the Seam. Preoccupied with the memories of the fence, I drift along in my friend's wake, not even caring about the heavy rain anymore.

The trip back doesn't seem to take half as long, and soon we're in line for registration, soaking wet. The Peacekeeper gives us suspicious glances as we get our fingers pricked but I just smile at her until I'm fully checked in. Some people say that the Peacekeepers are sadistic, but I have yet to see it. Peacekeeper is just a job. They've got families and stories just like the rest of us.

Daly bolts for the fifteen-year-old section as soon as we're in the square. Seeing the Mayor standing at the microphone, I follow her into the crowd of girls, but I can't see her anymore. I shrug, standing calmly where I am as the Treaty of Treason wraps up. Our escort steps forward happily, as enthusiastic as one could expect in the pouring rain. I can't help but smile. Livia seems very nice, especially since people like telling tales of evil Capitol people.

"Ladies first!" I hear, and suddenly I'm about to panic.

I won't be chosen. I won't, I know that. Daly and I, we're better off than a lot of people. We won't be chosen. They call out the name- I couldn't hear who it was, but since a sigh of relief rises from the girls around me it must have been all right.

But no one steps onstage. Have they fainted? I hope not. That's never good. I always feel extra terrible for the chosen kid when that happens. "Kyra Montgomery?" No! No! No, this can't… not me!

All the breath disappears from my lungs. I haven't been punched in the stomach before, but I suppose that it feels a little like this. I blink back the stinging hot tears and move out of the crowd. I can see Daly fighting her way towards me, but she stops at the edge of the section. I wouldn't expect anyone to volunteer. They don't have to; that would be too much of a sacrifice for me to allow.

Livia pats my head gently as I face the crowd. Everything's a big rainy, teary blur. I stand onstage with trembling legs; as a small boy comes up I want to let all my tears fall. How can we have a victor with these tributes? A thirteen-year-old and me?

The boy, Eris, smiles warmly at me as we shake hands. It comforts me a little bit. At least he's nice. Some years there are truly terrible people chosen for the Games.

Well, not truly terrible. Everyone has some good inside, and everybody has a little bad.

They take us inside the Justice Building and Livia leads me to a small room. "This is where your visitors will come to see you, dear," she explains. I glance around. It's really, really pretty.

"Kyra!" It's Daly, spraying water everywhere as she tackles me in a hug. "Ky, you have to come back! I need you to come back! You're one of my only friends, Ky, please! I know you can do this, you had _better_ pull through and win this thing, Ky, I know you have it in you!" I'm shivering with cold thanks to my soaked outfit and the touch of skin on skin- Daly's arms around me in a hug- makes me visibly tremble. It's fear, too, I think, although I'm too overwhelmed… so much emotion… so many things.

Daly slows down a little bit, just ranting on and on and repeating the same things over and over. "Ky, Ky just come home, please, please, you can do this… you can win… I know you can…"

"Time's up, miss," a Peacekeeper intones from the other side of the door. Daly renews her rant, screaming and reaching out for me as they march her from the room.

"KYRA! KYRA, PLEASE! COME HOME!"

My family is already crying when they enter the room. They're all here, surrounding me with this aura of warmth and sorrow.

My niece River toddles into my lap first, bright-eyed and unable to understand why everyone is crying. I bury my face in her baby-fine hair. She squeals and leans away from me. "Kya wet! Kya co-oold!" I giggle through my tears and tickle her.

Mom and Dad are holding on to each other, sobbing. It scares me. I've never seen them cry, and they're reduced to these heart wrenching sobs. Mom, usually so witty and sarcastic, and all she can do is lean on Dad's shoulder.

My sisters crowd around me on the couch. Mira says something, too quiet to understand, about my chances of survival. "Mi, you know I wasn't ever good as calculations." She sniffles and nods, unable to say anything else. Her first reaping and I was chosen.

Ana is much the same as Daly. "Come on, sis, you can win! Just try your best and you'll come home to us! You can't say otherwise, it's the truth, you can do this!" And then, "I can't believe this happened! The first year I'm ineligible. I could have saved you; I could have gone in your place, that's what they do in the trained districts!" She keeps a firm hand on my shoulder. She's not crying but she's shaken and angry. Liora cannot speak. She shakes with the force of her weeping. Her fiancé, Lucas, is teary-eyed as well, but he can speak.

"We plan to have kids. You'll… you'll be a namesake. We've had that planned since we were engaged." Liora nods sadly, but she can't stop crying. I'm crying now too, and she leans down and clasps her arms around my shoulders. River, sitting in my lap, makes a small noise as she's squished in between us.

Ana, Mira, Liora, River, Mom, and Dad. I love them so much. I love them so, so much. I can't imagine a world without them.

How will they survive in a world without me? I suppose they'll manage, sadly going through their lives, but I won't be a part of that anymore.

Maybe I can win, but even the dreams of coming home are full of monsters and darkness.

Slowly, Lucas and Liora first, followed by Ana, then Mom and Dad and Mira, they leave.

"I love you!" they each tell me. I return the words, filling them with as much feeling as I can summon.

River sits in my lap, calm again and still wanting to know what we're doing here.

"River… you'll always remember your Aunty Ky, right?"

"Kya!"

"Yeah, Kya. Sure." I twist a lock of her hair around my finger.

"I see you've got my kid, Ky."

"Reed!" My brother, aged twenty-three, stands in the doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets. I jump up, River in my arms still, and rush over to him. "Reed, you're here!"

"Yeah, Ky, I'm here." His eyes are watery just like the others but he doesn't cry. He leads me back over to the chair I was just sitting in. "Look, Ky, you need to find someone to trust, someone who can help you. You work so much better with others than on your own."

"I work best with you and Daly."

"So find someone like us. You know healing. Mom and Dad are doctors. If you didn't know healing you'd be disowned." We both smile a little there. "You're quick on your feet. You're a good person. Use those things. Ky, I know you can come home."

"Where's Eliana?"

"E's on bed rest. Little Aran's coming soon."

"Tell her I said hi and that I love them, all right?" Reed nods. I hand him back River and then kiss the little girl on the forehead. "I love you too, all right, Rivs?"

"I wuv you Kya!" Reed wipes away a tear with the back of his hand as his daughter speaks.

"Ky. You're the best kid sister I could have ever wanted. Come home. Please."

"Don't let Li, Ana, or Mira hear that!" Reed tweaks my nose in exasperation. "I love you, Reed."

When the Peacekeepers step into the room again, it's my turn to leave.

* * *

**Tell me what you thought! :D**


	5. District Eight Reapings

**Welcome all to District Eight! Our boy Shiloh Tyne is from JabberjayHeart and our girl Visca Martin is from Jayfish.**

**R&R!**

* * *

DISTRICT EIGHT MALE: SHILOH TYNE

My feet are freezing. Barely awake, I groan and draw my exposed toes back under the thin bedcovers. Why is it even so cold in here? It's early summer; temperatures are rising still and it's pleasant outdoors. I don't know, probably some issue with the air system- it's sketchy at best and it seems to think that I'm made of snow.

I don't think I have to worry about melting, though.

Unable to return to sleep, I stretch and climb out of bed. Shoes. I want shoes. Or socks would work just as well.

I guess my old slippers will work for now. Anything to thaw out my feet, really. I put the worn brown things on and glance around. The sun is up, although it's still early in the morning. Everything is quiet. Mom and Dad are probably still asleep. This is time to do anything I want.

I find a piece of charcoal in the corner of my desk drawer and, tossing it from hand to hand, consider my canvas options. The only paper in my room is my schoolwork and I refuse to ruin the assignments. I can't go outside my room for fear of spoiling the serenity of the early hours.

But who says I have to draw on paper?

The walls of my room are well-built and painted a creamy off-white color. That'll do nicely. Not the neatest canvas but the biggest for sure.

I swipe the charcoal against the wall and it leaves a long dark line in its path. I match the stroke with another, a little to the side, and soon the trunk of a tree emerges. I add branches and twigs and even roots at the bottom, but my tree doesn't have any leaves. I never could draw leaves. My trees have no foliage to hide their skeletons. It just looks stupid and childish when I try to add the leaves.

The tree is bent under the force of a vicious wind, represented by long, curved strokes that strike through small branches and sweep past the leaning trunk. I scratch dark thunderheads above the tree, bringing a storm into the scene. It commands the wind and forces the tree to bow its boughs. It's dark and wild and powerful.

But it's flat. The clouds are a black scribble on the wall and the tree is a collection of lines and sticks and rough edges. The wind is no force to be reckoned with. There's no depth, no shading, nothing besides the blank outlines. It's the most I can do. It may look all right but it's never actually good.

I brush at the storm clouds with a thin, pale hand, smearing the dark gray color and coating my hand with the charcoal. "Ugh!" Wiping it off on my old raggedy shirt, I put away the charcoal and sit down on my desk facing the rest of the room. There's a sketch of a mountain with rough ridges and a snowy crest on the wall behind the door, and a stick-figure drawing of my parents and me right over my bed. I may not be the best drawer but at least I like it.

I hear dishes clattering in the kitchen and realize my parents are awake. What? It's still early, isn't it? I glance quickly out of the window. The sun is much higher in the sky than it was when I awoke. Okay, good. I exit my chilly room and almost run to the kitchen. It's so much warmer out here.

"There he is!" Mom cries, throwing her arms up as she catches sight of me, "Shiloh! Come to the table, honey, breakfast is almost ready!" She crushes me in a huge hug and doesn't let go for several moments. She's fussing over me even more than normal. I can't think of a reason.

Not until I see two Peacekeepers pass by the window do I recall. It's Reaping Day. Of course! Maybe sketching takes my mind off of things too well. When she gives me the amount of attention that would suffice for three or four kids, she's bound to be anxious. I'm the son who lived; I'm the only child of hers that wasn't a miscarriage.

I smile at her and sit down next to Dad. He pats me on the back with a huge rough hand as I pull my chair close to the table. "Shiloh…"

"What, Dad?"

"Have you been drawing again?" There's a note of disapproval in his voice that is almost masked by his paternal warmth. I think he'd rather have me play ball games than draw. He loves me though, no matter what. I know that.

"Yeah… why do you ask?"

"You've got gray on your face." Startled, I glance into the reflection from a shaded windowpane. Sure enough, there's a huge smudge on my jaw in the shape of three fingers. Great.

"Take a napkin, Shiloh!" Mom says, thrusting a wet cloth into my hands. I scrub at the charcoal marks on my hands and chin for a few seconds until Mom deems me cleaned up enough and snatches away the cloth. "Let's eat," she says, almost buzzing with nervous energy as she brings a plate of pancakes to the table.

We chew in silence for several minutes before Dad turns to me again. "We have to leave in a few minutes to get to the Justice Building on time." I shiver a little before nodding and shoving half a pancake in my mouth. As soon as I swallow, I rush back to my icy room and dig through my clothes for something acceptable to wear. Khaki shorts and a long sleeved navy blue shirt. I guess it works. I mean, all my clothes live in piles anyway, it's not like I actually care about fashion.

Mom and Dad are ready to leave when I reenter the kitchen area. All the dishes are in the sink, waiting for me to wash them after the reaping, and my parents are standing by the door.

"Long sleeves on a warm day like this? Are you sure, Shiloh?" Mom frets. I pull the dark blue fabric down more securely over my wrists and nod. I can't exactly let anyone see my forearms. Then I'd be picked on even more than I currently am, not to mention the fact that Mom would have a nervous breakdown.

The thought of discovery makes the scars ache.

I walk willingly with my parents until we get to the registration checkpoint. "Hey, I'll see you afterward, all right?" Mom's eyes are a little watery already, but Dad simply nods and leads her to the crowd. I don't want any of the other guys to see me walking with my parents.

A lump develops in my throat the closer I get to the Peacekeeper with the needle. The guys my age have never really accepted me, since I've excelled in school and I never got the hang of speaking to other people. I don't like having to stand with them for a whole Hunger Games ceremony every year.

The kid before me in line has to be twelve; she's absolutely tiny. And I'm no giant, standing at only five feet three inches tall. She trips and falls as the Peacekeeper calls for the next person in line. I scramble to help her up. "Look, you'll be fine, it's nothing big, they'll just prick your finger and it'll hurt for a second- I mean, not very much, well just go ahead- but you're safe. I promise. You'll be fine."

The girl shakes off my hand and moves forward, pretending to be strong.

Even the little kids don't talk to me.

I check in and then move to the fifteen-year-old section with a crowd of other guys. I can't see Jaze or Twill, but they're here nonetheless.

Someone jabs me in the side. "Nice going with your girlfriend there, Shy-loh." I stiffen up at the voice of my main tormentor, Jaze Rascon.

"I don't have a girlfriend," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"He's right, Jaze," Twill fakes sympathy, "He's hopeless. No girls even go near this son of a-"

"Don't go any further, Twill," I squeak.

"Ohh, he's feisty today!" Jaze and Twill move into my line of vision, and I turn my hazel eyes toward the ground. The scary thing is, the three of us could be brothers. We've all got the same mousy hair and similar face shapes. I don't want to even share appearances with these jerks.

"What's the matter, Shy? Too smart to talk to us straight-C students? Too noble to associate with Jaze and me?" Twill shoves me backward and I almost fall into the boys behind me.

It's because of them I have the scars. It's because of them I goaded myself into using that old switchblade on my wrist. It's because of them I have nowhere to turn but to the knife. My parents never had these problems. There's no way that they could help me. They don't know how hard it is to stand up for yourself, because they never really had to.

They finally shut up when the escort steps onstage. He was here last year, too, and he still sports the same spiky purple hair. And the same bad attitude. "Let's see if you sorry excuses can get past the bloodbath this year!" he says, gesturing angrily to the teenagers waiting for the slips of paper to be drawn, "Maybe we can actually pull out a victor!" He flourishes his hand as he motions to the empty victor's chairs. "Boys first. Let's see if you can do anything for the Games this year."

"Maybe it'll be you, Shy. Maybe you'd actually do something interesting."

"I'd get a recording of your death scene and play it at parties." I know for a fact that Jaze and Twill are joking, that they're all bluff, and that they're just as hopeless as I am when it comes to parties and girls. But they still intimidate me.

"SHILOH TYNE!" The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. I dry-swallow twice as the words cut into my heart. Needless to say, the reality is colder than my feet were this morning.

"Ooh!" Jaze pokes me in the back, but Twill has the maturity to realize that the boy he picks on could actually die.

I stumble forward a few steps, and as the boys around me back away I feel vulnerable, so vulnerable, like everyone can see my secrets and my fears and I'm going to die. I feel like that skeleton of a tree bending under the storm from my drawing.

I'm going to die. Because really, how will I survive? With my superhuman strength? With my eloquent public speaking?

As I walk up the path to the steps of the Justice Building, a tiny seed of hope blossoms. Last year's victor wasn't strong or handsome or good with people. No, he was awkward and intelligent. If he can do it, I can.

My hesitant steps don't threaten to knock me over now. I'm still dragging myself through the sludge of fear, but maybe, just maybe, I will live to walk these streets again. I could do it, couldn't I? I need to do this. I have parents that love me and want me back.

I climb up the steps of the Justice Building to the escort, whose face looks like he just had a dog use his feet as a toilet.

"Are you Shiloh?" I nod to the escort, keeping my eyes on the marble beneath my feet. I can't look at the district. I can feel so many people focusing on me and I can't face that. "District Eight, you had better hope your female tribute is prepared to kill." So I am not expected to live. So it goes.

I flick my gaze up to find my parents in the crowd as the escort goes to select a female tribute. Mom is sobbing into Dad's shoulder. He has both arms around her, and his head is lowered. The sun glints off a tear as it drips from his eye to the ground.

I want to live, for them.

DISTRICT EIGHT FEMALE: VISCA MARTIN

_"See you on Monday, Visca!" Charity calls out, waving goodbye as she turns down a dimly lit street. I clutch three pages of research for a project in my hands. It's late. We stayed after school but I only now realize how much time has passed. The sun is low, and a dark blue veil has dropped in the western part of the sky. The light is dusky and full of orange and pink tints. I smile at the sunset and begin the short walk home. It's a journey I've taken many times before, but rarely alone at this late hour._

_ I'm half a block from my house when I hear someone making noise in an alley. I slow my pace, curious but wary, and glance down the alley. A man slumps against the wall, clutching his head with one hand and holding a bottle in the other. He hurls chunks of brick at the wall across from him and shouts obscenities. He's drunk out of his mind. I go to step past the narrow alleyway, but at that precise second the drunken man turns his gaze to me._

_ "Celia!" he growls, pushing himself off the wall. I walk on, not knowing what he means. I think he's just talking to himself. "Celia, get back here or I'll make you hurt!" I sense danger and move a little faster. "Celia!" the man roars. He lunges out of the alley and grabs at me, his dirty fingers brushing against the edge of my school uniform. I'm running now, running for my life. The research papers fly from my hands but I take no notice._

_ The man is swift even though he staggers. I'm grabbed by my long dark hair and dragged backwards. "Celia, don't run from me."_

_ "I'm not Celia! I'm not! Let me go!" I squirm in the man's grasp but to no avail. The man laughs harshly at me and I cough on the fumes of liquor._

_ "Not Celia," he scoffs, "You're Celia, you're a coward, and you're a liar. You'll pay for cheating on me, girl. You'll pay with your life."_

_ "Please sir, let me go," I beg, twisting in his iron grip._

_ "Sir," he rasps, "Celia, you'll not have me flattered." With that, he turns me to face the wall. "You're going to regret having ever been born," he slurs. With that, he slams me face first into the brick wall. I scream, but he pulls me back and clamps a hand over my mouth. "Oh no, I won't let you cry for help. This is what you deserve."_

_ "Please…no…please!" I shriek, but white lights pop behind my eyes as I'm slammed into the wall again. I can't fight back, I'm too weak, and it all hurts so much, so much pain, I black out for a few seconds but the next impact brings me back to consciousness. I mewl in agony, trying to hold my hands to my face. The drunken man pins my arms at my side and forces me forward again. This time my nose makes direct contact and I hear a crunch inside my skull._

_ Warm sticky blood runs down my face, filling my mouth with a metallic taste and coating the front of my school uniform with crimson. A garbled scream issues from my mangled face. _

_ The man drops me to the ground and begins attacking me, punching me in the face and stomach. My eyes are blurred with red and black, but I can see the last of the fading sunset. If I die, it's a nice last memory._

_ A bright white light envelopes my vision and the drunkard is dragged away by several people in white suits. There's a lot of shouting and blood and light and I think I'm dying, dying, and the pain fades and I don't remember anything._

"Ow!" I wake up on the ground, in a cold sweat, with my arm twisted painfully underneath my body. I've fallen out of bed during my restless sleep.

"Visca!" my mother appears in the doorway, looking panicked, "I heard a noise."

"I fell out of bed, it's all right." She comes over to me and lays a hand on my shoulder as I prop myself up on my elbows.

"Did you have the dream again?"

I nod, closing my eyes tightly to try and close out the world. Instead, it only brings back the rest of the memories from that night.

_The doctors, standing over me. "She's conscious!" One, a woman with green eyes and soft blond hair held back in a severe bun, leans over me. "We can't let that stay. It'll only cause more damage. Give her some more local anesthetic." Then a cutting pain in my face, and once again, nothingness._

I blink, forcing the image out of my head.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. It's been almost a full year and you haven't been able to move on."

Because any fourteen-year-old girl would move on quickly from being attacked by a drunk and losing her nose in the process. All right, so maybe it changed me for the worse. It isn't my fault.

"I'm fine. I need to get ready for the reaping. Please, don't worry about me today. There's enough anxiety as it is."

"At least let me help you get ready, Visca!"

I reluctantly agree, but then I grin at her with a spark of laughter in my eyes. "As long as I get to pick the outfit!" My mom laughs and nods, helping me to stand and brushing off my nightgown. No matter what I say about not fretting, she still examines me for any marks from my fall.

I only open the wardrobe before the realization. This is the first reaping that I have to attend, noseless. I am terrified of the outdoors now; I can barely set foot outside. I've been outside three times since that night. One time coming home from the hospital, and the other two were going to and from a psychiatrist.

"I'm not going out today," I declare, slamming the wardrobe doors. My mother looks up at me with confusion.

"You have to," she replies.

"I can't." It's that simple.

"Come now, Visca, it's required! There's nothing your father or I can do about it!" I slump down, trying not to panic, but my mom comes over to me and gently hugs me. "You'll be all right. We'll be right near you, I promise." I want to break down and wail, but I hold myself together. Maybe I do just need to get back out into the district. Maybe Charity will be my friend again.

I haven't seen her in almost a year now.

I pull out a nice summer dress and slip it on, shivering a bit when it slides over the remains of my nose. Mom leads me to the bathroom, where my fake nose rests waiting for me. Father got it for me. It's a good nose, but it doesn't make up for the trauma of losing my original. I settle it into place, attaching the wires that hold it on my face. Mom does my makeup, making sure to cover up the scars that the fake nose can't quite hide.

"Look, it's Beauty and the Beast," I say to my mom, pointing at the mirror. She's the beauty, I'm the beast. Of course, being a mother, she disagrees.

I might have been beautiful.

"Well, if it isn't my two lovely ladies!" my father says, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, "Seral and Visca. Are we ready for the big outing?" I shake my head.

"Isaac, she can't do this."

Father's eyes grow sad. "Visca?" I turn to him. "You'll have to leave the house today whether you want to or not."

"I know, Father."

"Let's go before my desire for your happiness gets the better of me and I decide to break the law." My parents usher me towards the door and we're in the entryway before I can't bear to take another step.

"NO! I WON'T LEAVE!" I make a run for my room, but Father's behind me and he catches me up in a hug.

"Visca, I know this hurts you, and you're scared to death, but it's necessary. We have to leave now." He attempts to set me down and nudge me out the door, but I plant my feet. Mom opens the door for me, but I do not budge an inch. "Visca," he sighs. Then he sweeps me up and carries me outside. I struggle and cry out, but there's no way for me to overpower my father.

When there's no chance of going back, I give up easily. I go limp in Father's arms and don't even resist when he sets me down and tells me gently to walk on my own. I clutch Mom's hand and walk a step behind them, trying to hide from everyone who sees us.

My parents are not allowed to take me through registration, so I am forced to do that on my own. "I promise, honey, we'll stand as close to you as possible!" Mom says before turning away. I shuffle into the line, keeping as far away from the other teenagers as possible. Human contact isn't something I'm used to anymore. I'm so afraid. What if someone wants to hurt me? What if they all make fun of me? What if they hate me? What if I'm lost? What if the drunken man finds me again? What if my false nose comes off? Whatifwhatifwhatif? I struggle to take a deep breath, keeping the panic from overwhelming me.

That's what happened when I went to the psychiatrist. I freaked out when I went outside. I don't want attention today. It would not go well.

I step into the fourteens section and find a spot at the edge of the group where no one seems to notice me. My parents find me and stand in the crowd as close as they can get. They're holding hands, but their knuckles are white, even paler than my skin.

I focus on Mom and Father as the escort steps up to select two tributes. This isn't even the scariest part of my day. That was going outside. I don't have much of a chance at being reaped, anyway. My family is wealthy enough that I haven't taken any tesserae.

A boy is called forward. Shiloh Tyne. Some of the girls whisper in relief that their brothers, friends, and crushes are safe. No one seems especially concerned for Shiloh, who's onstage trembling. They don't care about someone who they don't know. I see some of the older girls looking sad- perhaps he reminds them of a younger brother?- and some of the youngest girls upset at the choosing of such an unpromising tribute. But my age group is callous enough to not care.

The escort insults Shiloh onstage, but the boy doesn't seem to focus on that at all. I feel bad for him. I don't want to see anyone die.

"District Eight, you had better hope your female tribute is prepared to kill," the purple-haired escort jeers.

He daintily plucks a slip from the pink-tinted reaping bowl, but almost tears it open in his haste to discover the name.

"VISCA MARTIN!"

That's me. No, no, no, that can't be me. Not with all these people, not with my nose, not with my paranoia.

I shoot a terrified glance at Father and Mom before the Peacekeepers come for me. They escort me to the steps, but leave me on my own when I reach the Justice Building. Shivers that have been running down my spine all morning increase to quaking in fright. I retreat to a far corner of the stage and refuse to interact with the escort or with my district partner.

All this attention from people that want me dead or from gawkers. At least it's not the first time.

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**Definitely an interesting district, don't you agree? XD Tell me what you thought in a review!**


	6. District Three Reapings

**District Three! Yay! XD Our boy Phi Pandit is from Anla'shok and our girl Cathodra Steinmetz is from Lupus Overkill.**

**Enjoy this chapter! :)**

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DISTRICT THREE MALE: PHI PANDIT

I know the world. It's too afraid to know me.

It doesn't have room for people that don't fit its mold, but it's too scared to get rid of the anomalies.

Even my parents consider me a statistical anomaly. I'm the one that didn't match their little plan. They must have tried to make up for my appearance with my name. Phi. The Golden Ratio. The prefect proportion. The inspiration of beauty.

I couldn't be more different. Nobody loves _this_ face or _my_ symmetry. In a district full of people who say they focus on intellect rather than appearance, there are hordes of ridiculously shallow people.

It is what it is. I've learned that and I can't change it, so I'll just live with it.

And while I'm stuck living with this crowd, I have things to do.

It's a short, easy walk to the Peacekeeper's house; in fact, it is so early that there's not a person on the streets to see me. Even if there were observers, they wouldn't want to watch me. They'd all turn away.

I'm glad for the silence. The world's not as stupid when it is quiet.

I pick up a brick from the edge of a road when my target comes into view.

I arrive at the house and set my ear against the wooden front door. There are noises from inside: the clattering of skillets and quiet voices. Peacekeeper Nori and his wife. Good. They're awake, and judging by their conversation the man is preparing to leave. There will be no mistakes.

Concealing the brick behind me, I stand right outside their door. The conversation from the inside gets louder.

"It's time for me to leave. Get the door, woman." The wife opens the door and squeals, flinching away from me. I don't know if it's from fright at my appearance or my presence.

I do not acknowledge her reaction and step inside the well-kept dwelling without an introduction or an invitation.

"What's going on out there?" Nori calls from another room. I know exactly where he is but I'm not supposed to act until he comes into view.

"There's a… boy, dear," his wife replies, keeping her eyes on me the entire time.

"What does he want?" The man's voice is clipped and tired.

"I have an errand to run," I call to him in explanation, leering at the woman all the while. She cringes and takes a step back.

"Well, what is it, boy? And what's your name?" Nori stomps into the doorway, holding a pristine Peacekeeper's helmet under one arm.

"My name is none of your business," I say curtly before hefting my brick in the air, "And it's not like you actually cared." The wife screams but I knock her to the ground as I lunge for Nori. I know exactly where I'm supposed to aim and the brick collides with the side of the man's head. He slumps to the ground, blood oozing from his crushed temple. I set the brick beside his body before forcing the lady to her feet. There's a large wardrobe in the next room- visible from the side windows but not easily observed- and I prod her toward it. "Get in." She obeys, scared out of her wits, and I block the door of the huge cabinet with a small table.

My last actions before exiting the house are to drag Nori's corpse out of the area visible from the windows and then to cover the bloodstains with a throw rug.

I even lock the door behind me.

I march away from the house still unnoticed by the people of Three. They will not have knowledge of Nori's murder until long after the reaping.

Clementine is waiting for my report a few blocks away, near the Justice Building where she is stationed. I find the dark-skinned woman quickly among the other Peacekeepers and she steps into the shadows when she recognizes me. "Did you do it?" she asks. I nod. "Thank you so much!" the woman replies with a sincere smile on her face. "Of course, I had never expected you to help me out like that, but it means a lot."

"He was sexually harassing you. You're my friend. Nobody hurts my friend. So he deserved it."

Clementine nods in agreement with my words, but she seems eager to move on. "Are you going to follow through with the last part of the plan then?"

"To volunteer. Yes. I will."

"You'll be great! A hero, even! They'll all want to sponsor the boy who killed the man that everyone hates. And when you win you'll be safe from any criminal convictions." I let my pride swell at Clementine's flattering words. People will adore me, even exalt me. I will be savior of Clementine and victor of Panem.

She sends me off to the registration line and moves back to her position. Our companionship is hidden, but it's the most I've ever had.

The Peacekeeper man with the needle is more reluctant to take my finger than I am to offer it. I scoff. I'm so ugly I scare even the trained men. As long as I garner fear alongside hatred, I'm good.

I move to the fifteen-year-old-males section and stand silently, letting my broad shoulders hunch to the point where I almost feel deformed. It's more threatening. I enjoy intimidation.

The square is mostly empty, except for the Peacekeepers, a few nervous early birds, and me. I bare my teeth in the direction of two younger boys, one of whom yelps. Slowly, though, it begins to fill, but there's a small permanent clearing around me. I shoot glares at anyone who mentions my name.

By the time the square is full, our mayor and escort have arrived onstage and are preparing to begin the ceremony. It's a special year for Three- we have a new mentor. Newt Hillen: scrawny, nerdy, traumatized, and frightened. He stands onstage looking ready to curl up and die, and I laugh at him. He never should have won. He didn't deserve to win.

Wouldn't it be something if Three had two victors in a row?

We have not managed to lose our escort. Talinda, in all lavender this year and dripping with ribbons and bows, bounces onstage in an irritating burst of enthusiasm.

"District Three!" she beams, "It's so good to see you again! After such a great year, I'm sure you are itching for another victor!" She nods to Newt, whose mouth twitches up in a half-grimace, half-smile at the mention of his title. "As usual, we'll be choosing the ladies first!" She hurries to the crystalline bowl and snatches up a slip of paper from the very top of the bowl. "And, District Three, your female participant is…"

"Get on with it!" someone yells anxiously. A few members of the crowd snicker at Talinda's crestfallen expression. I simply continue scowling.

"CATHODRA STEINMETZ!"

That name will soon be on a gravestone.

After a long pause there's movement. An eighteen-year-old steps forward- she's older than her mentor is, how ironic. She's breathing heavily as she goes up to the stage but there's nothing that actually stands out about her. Another person to be sent home in a wooden box, nothing more.

"Are there any volunteers?" Nope. Nobody.

Talinda is ecstatic over the presence of an older tribute, and she fawns over Cath-whatever for almost forty-five seconds before reaching toward the other set of names. I shift as the slip of paper is chosen. She reads the name silently to herself and then… "TYNDALL LEONARD!"

A small boy, younger than me but not twelve, breaks out from his section and runs for the crowd. Adults part for him; he's made it to the edge of the square!

And Clementine, my companion Clementine, is there to tackle him and drag him to the stage. I smirk.

"Are there any volunteers?"

I shoulder past several boys to reach the center aisle. "Me. I will take his place." Clementine's eyes light up as she releases the Tyndall kid. Our plan is complete.

I mount the steps of the Justice Building and face the crowd. Talinda and Cathodra both shy away from me, but Talinda has a job to do. "What's your name, dearie? Why did you volunteer?"

"I'm Phi Pandit, and you don't need to know my reasons." I snatch Cathodra's hand and crush it in a handshake before storming into the Justice Building.

Clementine will not visit me. We've discussed this. If she wants to fully escape from Nori, she must not be seen with his murderer. We have already said our goodbyes. They were brief and unemotional.

Is this an hour of reflection time, then?

A Peacekeeper knocks on the huge heavy door, telling me that I have a visitor.

It's not a free hour then. There's a flash of long dark hair and a glimpse of a pair of glasses before the visitor is at my side. My sister? My sister, perfect pretty successful Beth. Why is she here?

"Beth."

"Phi! What the crap were you thinking?"

"I have my reasons."

"Yeah, just like your reasons for becoming a bully, right? You let other's opinions make you hideous straight to the core."

"You and your perfect little family didn't exactly help. I'm your anomaly, remember?" Beth seems hurt but I don't care. "I grew up hearing that I was ugly, that I was the one that was wrong and different. Maybe it's you, sister, who made me who I am. Have fun thinking on that." I lean back in the velvety chair, savoring my triumph.

"At least I love you. You're my brother. That's what matters, okay? Look, you'll be fighting for your life. I don't want my brother to die, no matter what you're like."

"Don't worry about me. You never have before."

"I'm the one who tried to talk to you, Phi! Remember that!" She turns on her heel and flees the room.

Aren't you supposed to get a token from home during the goodbyes? Isn't that what they talk about? Beth didn't give me anything. Not a single trinket to remember the district by.

Well, not that I'd want to remember this filth.

But still. She could have made the effort. She could have remembered that. It's just a tiny little thing. Why, even here, am I the one forgotten?

Freaks don't get tokens.

DISTRICT THREE FEMALE: CATHODRA STEINMETZ

Nikola and I stand together at the back of the eighteen-year-old-female section. We're fairly close to the stage of course, but we're just about as far away as we can get in our age group. In fact, we can easily talk to Enja, who stands at the very front of the seventeens. Conversation is the reason we're standing here anyway.

"So, I was thinking," Nikola begins, "you know those machines that always are breaking down in the factories? The ones that they use for big assembly lines?"

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," I say.

"Well, you know how they have to move up and down all the time to get to all the parts in the electronics that they put together?"

"We've studied this in basic engineering, Nikola," Enja rolls her eyes at the older girl.

"Well, what if instead of using a metal joint they used the anatomical technology of the human muscle? They could have two big rubber-bandy things, one on each side of the metal arm, that when one contracts the other expands. It would be a lot cheaper than getting these huge robots."

"Well, it would be a lot more labor-intensive," I ponder my friend's idea.

"And the rubber would wear out faster than the metal does," Enja points out.

"But we'd be able to use get stockpiles of the stuff for much less than we obtain the metal! And what if we used a material that's durable under stretch."

"Even if we found an extremely durable material, it would still stretch to the point of malfunction fairly quickly."

Nikola rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue at us. "Well, maybe I shouldn't share ideas that just pop into my head with you guys! Spoilsports!" Enja and I giggle at our friend.

"Hey, at least you didn't send it to developers without thinking it through!" I offer. Nikola pushes me lightly, but Enja grabs us by the shoulders before we go any further. The Mayor has stepped up to the microphone.

"The Dark Days were a travesty upon our beloved nation. Families were torn apart, brother fought against brother, and a schism divided Panem in an unwinnable war…"

"Oh gosh, he's improvising," I hiss to Nikola. Our poor Mayor may be beginning to have memory issues, and it's showiI feel sorry for the old man, but at least he doesn't stop awkwardly. He pours out an ad-libbed monologue like he's been saying it for years.

Well, you know, he could have just 'modified' the Treaty of Treason a little. We need a little excitement.

"… The Hunger Games will forever be a reminder of the great power of our beloved Capitol. This is our payment as rebels. This is our legacy as citizens." Oh well, the message is close enough to the real words.

"That was interesting," Nikola says dryly. Enja stifles a laugh.

The escort hasn't let the improvisation affect her spirits at all. She wobbles happily forward on towering high heels and gleefully addresses us. "District Three! It's so good to see you again! After such a great year, I'm sure you are itching for another victor!"

Another victor? That's ridiculously unlikely, especially when the mentor this year is a frail sixteen-year-old boy who didn't actually kill anyone in his Games.

Poor Newt, though. He was in some of the same classes as my seventeen-year-old brother Cerkt in school and apparently he was always bright and eager to learn. Now he sits like he doesn't even know where he is and like he doesn't have a reason to live. He's a survivor, but he doesn't act like one. He's just another depressed kid and District Three has gained only a miniscule amount of hope from his victory.

I turn my attention back to Talinda.

"As usual, we'll be choosing the ladies first!" She hurries to the crystalline bowl and snatches up a slip of paper from the very top of the bowl. "And, District Three, your female participant is…" She draws out the moment before she announces the name, trying to create suspense. As it is, she only stirs up the crowd.

"Get on with it!" someone hollers. Almost everyone snickers. It's halfhearted, though.

_One last year come on come on one more name I'll be free one more, just this last reaping, I'll be safe._

A flustered Talinda holds up the name as she reads it off the paper. "CATHODRA STEINMETZ!"

No. No.

This isn't happening.

Everything falls apart around me. Nikola and Enja gasp; the crowd of girls parts around me. They look relieved. It's not someone important- oh look, she's eighteen, she might have a chance! Age isn't everything. I'm not strong. I… I… I have to go to the Games.

With the breath hitching in my throat, I step out of the clusters of girls and make my way to the stage. I fight to keep the panic down. I can hear the frantic beating of my heart, like it wants to escape my chest.

There are no volunteers. Why would there be? Talinda greets me kindly, patting me on the back and pulling my wavy brown ponytail over one of my shoulders like she genuinely cares about my appearance on camera.

Then she goes to the boys' bowl and selects a name, one Tyndall Leonard.

That's a name I know. Hertz, my youngest brother, is friends with the boy. As he makes a break for it, I recognize him as one of the kids that's been to my house for dinner once or twice. I don't want to go into the Games with him. No, that would hurt my family. That would devastate Hertz.

He's dragged onstage by a mulatto Peacekeeper with dyed blond hair. I try to offer him an encouraging smile, but he doesn't look at me. He closes his eyes like he's trying to pretend that this is all a dream.

If only.

"Are there any volunteers?"

"Me. I will take his place." At first I'm afraid it's one of my brothers being stupid. But the voice isn't right.

That kid is frightening. He steps out of the fifteens section like he's some noble hero, but the smirk on his face speaks more of a villain. He's got cropped dark hair, broad- almost hunched- shoulders, and a squashed-looking face. He's sickly pale.

He introduces himself as Phi Pandit. Phi? The Golden Ratio? I hesitantly shake his hand and we move into the Justice Building.

My family is there first, practically marching to a funeral chant as they enter the room. My mom is the only one crying, although everyone is somber and melancholy.

I notice that my oldest brother isn't here. Conrad and I have never gotten along, but would he really have not come?

"Daughter…" Father is shaken. He wraps me in his arms and holds me tight, and can barely speak at all.

"Father, I don't know what to do!" I'm almost in hysterics.

He untangles himself from the embrace and lays his hands on my shoulders. "Win. You're clever. You've helped me with projects many a time. Use that to your advantage. Make things. Come home. I-I know you can." His voice breaks and he kisses me on the forehead in the absence of speech. His eyes are full of tears, but they do not spill over.

Mother swoops in and rocks me and brushes away the tears that threaten to spill over from my eyes. She's trying so hard to be strong even though I know she's wailing inside. Hertha's shocked into total silence. There's not much to say, anyway. Goodbyes are hard and happiness is even more difficult.

If I die she'll be the only sister.

"Will you be able to win?" a voice as whispery as a light wind asks. Niels, whose friend Tyndall was almost my partner in these Games, looks at me with scared eyes. I smile weakly before squeezing him in a hug. He usually runs away laughing whenever I try to hug him, but now he stands, not even going stiff in my arms, just afraid for his big sister.

Cerkt moves up. "Cathodra… you're the best big sister ever," he says.

"You're just as tall as I am, you know," I joke. It's not funny. A knock on the door tells my family that time is almost up.

"Bye, sis," Cerkt says, pressing my hand before he stands to go.

"I love you," Niels manages to choke out through his shock.

"Dearest…" my parents are almost mourning already, "the best of luck. We love you so much." And Hertha lifts her hand in farewell right before the door closes behind them.

I'm expecting Nikola and Enja, not Conrad. At twenty, he's the only sibling so far to have escaped the Games. Why didn't he come with the others?

"Cathodra!" This is the most emotion I've seen from him at one time. "Cathodra, I can't believe this."

"Neither can I."

But my brother is all business. "Cathodra, I've never been a good big brother to you, never. I can't believe that I… I might never have a chance now. Will you… will you take my watch as a token?"

"Your watch? Really?" The worn leather strap and white face of the watch are something I've associated with my brother since the day he got it- he was ten. Now it's handed to me.

"Cathodra…"

"Conrad, thank you. I love you so much. You're my brother and whether I live or die, you always will be. You always were. We were siblings, not best friends, and that's fine. I love you." He smiles and hugs me once before exiting.

Nikola and Enja burst into the room, an explosion of emotions. Well, Nikola anyway. Enja mirrors my family in her quiet sadness.

I'm treated to a rant on the evil nature of the Games, and I'm startled. "Nikola, stop!"

She quiets mid-sentence. "What do you expect? My best friend is going to the Hunger Games!"

"Yeah, but it's all right."

"No! It's not all right! None of it is all right!"

"I don't want you to get hurt, Nikola. Don't make them angry. Don't get involved in this!"

"All right," she says grudgingly, "for you."

Enja comes and sits beside me. "Don't get involved in conflict. You're a strategist, not a fighter. Live, all right?"

I grin and nod. "I can do that, Enja." She nods assent and rests a hand on my shoulder. "You guys take care of each other, okay?"

"We already do, Cathodra!" Nikola snaps back anxiously, but her hand snaps up to her mouth. "I… I can't believe I just said that. I'm not angry. Don't remember me as angry!"

"In the end I don't think I possibly could."

The Peacekeeper enters the room. "Time to go."

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PEACEKEEPER, CLEMENTINE

I watch as the train pulls away from the depot, carrying away the only piece of evidence that the district has against me for the murder of Nori Whyte.

There was no harassment. Sure, he was an asshole, but he was faithful to his dumb little wife. He wasn't special at all. I may have convinced Phi that he was hated in the Capitol, but he doesn't even have a reputation outside of Three. He was just a threat to my position, and my position only.

It was only too easy to convince Phi to do the dirty work. I had had plenty of practice in Eleven manipulating the other kids when I was younger. I just found the one who needed a 'friend' and gave him what he needed. And in return the ugly boy helped me get what I wanted. Power.

And he volunteered for me. Perfect. Admittedly, I wasn't planning on even him going through with it, but I suppose once someone gets in that boy's thick skull they don't come out. Easy disposal for me, because there's no way that he will win. The Capitol doesn't want an ugly victor for their little Games.

Nobody will ever know. There may be a tragic discovery that a disturbed volunteer took out the Peacekeeper, but by then Phi will be dead. The Capitol isn't interested in local murders, even if one of their current stars was a factor. That's material for a victor's interview.

And my dear little pawn will never reach that point.

Phi Pandit, the one who will never know exactly how helpful he was.

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**Let's see how Three fares this year, shall we XD After Newt, these guys seem pretty tough, right? ;) (Haha. Don't worry guys, I still love Newt my baby! XD let's just admit that he wasn't a powerful person)**

**This chapter wasn't one of my best. I was tired and the characters didn't want to cooperate with me :/ Oh well, we'll meet them again later!**

**But please, tell me what you thought. :)**


	7. District Five Reapings

**District Five this time! Sorry about the late update. :/ Anyway, our girl Marlee Stark is from LoveIsBlindness and our boy Elmo Acoba is from hublub. Thanks guys for your characters!**

**Also, I have breached 100 reviews. Thank you all so much for your support and feedback! It means a lot :3 I hope you all continue to review ;)**

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DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: MARLEE STARK

"May! We have told you a dozen times to stop this!" My parents are screaming at my older sister again. I moan and pull the bed covers over my head, trying to block out the yelling match.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions!" my sister hollers back, slurring the words a little. Even she must realize how old that excuse is getting. She's been using it for two years now- since she was a year younger than I am. And she seems to live by that motto as she constantly goes out to get drunk and have sex.

"Whatever your decisions seem to be for you, they are terrible choices! One of these days you'll wake up in a stranger's bed with no recollection of how that came to be!"

"Already done, mother dearest," May spits out. I bite my tongue to keep from giggling despite my irritation. I can imagine how my parents are taking this and it's not pretty. I can imagine May flipping her long dark braid over her shoulder in nonchalant defiance.

"You'll end up pregnant, and it is well known in this household that we can afford no more children!"

"This is my last Reaping. Maybe I'd just _leave_!" Judging by the creak of the floorboards May has stormed away from the conversation and is going to sulk in her room. I suppose I could try and return to sleep, but I know it won't work. Not after I was so rudely awakened by my wild sister's appearance in the home.

I slip out of bed and get dressed for the day, reluctantly rubbing the sleep from my dark eyes. It's not particularly early, but since when do teenagers actually want to wake up before noon? Moving to the kitchen, I find my parents and my older brother Nath at the breakfast table. They seem relieved to see me; I'm guessing that, no matter what I do, I'm less of a problem than May. I take a seat at the table, not taking any food but accepting a cup of water that my mother forces into my hands. They don't take care to feed us all. If one of the family members skips a meal, it will mean more food for later. I mean, Mom will notice if someone stops eating entirely but that's about it.

"Morning," I yawn.

"Hey, Marlee," Nath greets me, "enthusiastic about the Reaping? We're all looking forward to seeing two kids die."

"Nath…" Mom warns. The muscular man rolls his eyes and drums his fingers on the table. He's being dark again, that's all. He doesn't want to be here, he wants to be out somewhere lifting weights or doing push-ups. How such a fitness freak ended up in District Five, let alone our family, is utterly beyond me.

"We almost had a victor last year," Dad says ruefully, "Delany Lavis was a fighter." He knows the girl's parents from work. Her death has left a huge black smear on the entire community. They're all a little more bitter, a little more hopeless.

Suddenly I'm filled with this deep sorrow and I can't take being around my family any more. I push my chair back from the rough wooden table and head for the door. "See you guys after this thing is over," I blurt, putting on my old worn shoes.

"Be careful, Marlee," Mom frets after me, "I don't want anything bad to befall you today! You've had enough trouble in the past!" She's referencing the history of the scar that stretches from my left eyebrow to my cheekbone, where I ran into a thief exiting our house and in my stubborn confrontation with the robber received a long gash from the man's knife. I was fourteen then; it was three years ago.

"Let it go, Mom!" I shout as the door swings shut behind me. I trace the scar with one fingertip almost subconsciously as I hurry down the sidewalk.

It's drizzling, which makes my already frizzy dark hair puff up around my face and gives me goose bumps. This is my absolute least favorite weather, which is saying something because I dislike a lot of natural conditions. I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to stay semi-comfortable.

Might as well drag someone out here to be as uncomfortable as I am. I make a quick detour to the home of one Skye Jackson, my best friend. Standing on the front step, I quickly rap three times on the doorframe. Skye's father answers, looking weary and anxious. "Is Skye here, Mr. Jackson?" He smiles at me, nodding, and disappears inside the house for a moment.

Skye bursts out of the cozy little house, immediately flinching back at the light rain. I laugh at her a little before pulling her into the street. "Come on, Skye!"

"Marlee, you're dragging me out in the rain. I don't want to go!" she wails, laughing all the way through her words and effectively canceling out her annoyance.

"Come on, you, walk with me!" I jump into a puddle and the water splashes up to the hem of Skye's skirt.

"I might as well now, since my parents won't want me coming back inside all dripping wet!" She elbows me and I stagger back into the puddle, soaking my shoes all the way through.

"Gee, thanks."

"You started it!" Skye giggles, "Anyway, are we headed to the square?"

"You and Nath both are, like, super excited for the reaping. Why do you want to see little kids get chosen to die? Refresh my memory. I must have missed a memo."

"Gosh, Marlee, you're so cynical today."

"Love you too, Skye. And I don't want to see them die, I just want to get this over with."

"Sure you do."

"Shut up! You know it's true."

"Yeah. I do."

We walk for a few more minutes in silence before Skye grabs my arm. "Marlee! Marlee!"

"What? Skye, you're about to pull my arm off!"

"That boy is adorable!" I follow her gaze to a dark-haired kid in the crowd. Sure. Whatever. I don't care.

"He's in my engineering class at school, I think. He's not very good." Which is probably the reason I don't remember his name at all. I only give thought to the students that could outperform me. They're the ones that I need to score higher than on tests and projects. Maybe, just maybe, I'll get noticed and then I'll have a shot at doing something with my life.

"It doesn't matter! He's so hot. I wouldn't mind getting to know him better, if you know what I mean…" Skye's watching the boy like a vulture watches a dying animal.

"Skye, do you know how slutty you can be sometimes? Haven't you been with two guys in the past two weeks?"

"Oh, come on, that's hardly promiscuous. Seriously, look at your sister."

"Sometimes I wonder why you and May aren't better friends. She's only a year older than I am." I've lost Skye to the 'attractive' male across the street and she won't stop fangirling over him. My goodness, I need a break from this. We make it all the way through check-in and I lead her to the seventeens section before she stops to even take a breath.

"And did you see his eyes? Did you? They were the exact same color as chocolate, I swear!"

"Skye. Shut up. The Mayor is starting the ceremony." She obliges and without her idle boy talk the tension in the square seems to swell around me. I have an average amount of slips in there. What if it's me? What if it's me?

"PIKACHUUU!" Everyone in the district flinches to attention as our escort makes his appearance. Still obsessed with the same strange little things as last year, apparently. Just wonderful. All thoughts of fear evaporate from my mind as I watch this disgusting little Capitol idiot prance around with his lightning-bolt tail. He's so mindless it's amusing.

"And our ladies," he skips to the girls' reaping bowl and tears a name from the pile, "MARLEE STARK, I CHOOSE YOU!"

I'm frozen. This, a terrible nightmare, the event that has destroyed so many already. I cannot let this go on. I cannot go to the Games. I can't!

I turn and run, pushing through the other girls in a frenzy to get out. I see May out of the corner of my eye, standing agape at the edge of the eighteen-year-olds' area. She could at least help me! I can't make it through, there are too many people! Scratching and kicking at girls who get in my way, I break out of the main square- immediately I'm caught up by a Peacekeeper and dragged forward. I will not fight for the entertainment of the government I hate!

But I will not let them drag me to their Games. I fight the Peacekeeper's grip until he realizes I'm not going to run, walking the rest of the way to the platform by myself. "MARLEE USED CONFIDENCE! IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE!"

Well, I hate this.

I zone out, refusing to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony and even to my district partner. I don't let the world come back into focus until visitors come to bid me farewell.

"Marlee! No… no… not another of my children!" Mom sobs, burying her face in Dad's shirt.

I used to have another brother. I never knew him. His name was Maxon and he disappeared in the Dark Days before I was even conceived. I'm basically his replacement, and so my mother has lost the same child twice. I'm used to the thought by now though.

Dad brushes away a tear from my eyelashes with his dark rough hand. I grab his hand and press it to my cheek, trying to memorize his warmth and remember the tones of his dark brown skin against mine, which is barely lighter. I've never seen this much open emotion from them, loving me for who I am and not as a replacement for Maxon.

Skye has booked it from the reaping area to get in the room so quickly. She's freaking out and bawling and shaking and we have to comfort each other since I'm still damp from my parents' visit. There's barely a word spoken until the Peacekeepers say it's time for her to go.

"No, you're my best friend, you can't go to the Games!"

"Shh, shh, it'll be fine. They're Games after all, how hard could it be? Sure, it's life or death, but maybe it won't hurt."

"Don't talk like that!"

"Hey, go talk to that guy when I'm gone, okay? I want you to meet him. It'll be like a way to remember me."

"You won't die! Promise me you won't die!"

But the Peacekeepers come in and remove her, screaming and reaching out for me, before I can swear to try my hardest.

May and Avery and Nath all come in together: my siblings, all of them, even Avery who's long been married. They're all sad and grieving but everything's a blur and I can't process emotions and they're sad and I'm sad and everyone's crying and… and…

Avery doesn't have her kids with her. Huh. You'd think that maybe I'd take umbrage to the fact that I could be going to die or that May didn't try to help me. "Avery, where are Anya and Pia?"

"I'm not going to let Anya and Sweet Pea come and say goodbye. They're too young to be traumatized like this!" I love my naïve, sweet sister, but sometimes I just want to see her kids instead. Especially quiet little Anya who loves to crawl up in my lap and sing me nursery rhymes and give me little butterfly kisses.

But I break down anyway and hug all of them and say I love them and we go through the 'please come back routine' once more. But I can't feel anything anymore, it's like my emotions deserted me and left me hopeless and empty.

Maybe Maxon is in the Capitol. He could be an Avox, right? The District has harbored that theory since before I was born. I so want him to be living.

Or at least I'll see him when I die and go wherever dead souls go.

DISTRICT FIVE MALE: ELMO ACOBA

Flickering, fleeting, twisting light. Reds and yellows and oranges and whites and a hint of blue, dancing in the air and reaching skyward in a tiny attempt to leap free and devour all. Biting, licking, warming, hurting, loving. A skirt of intense heat and an aura of soft light. So beautiful. Dark, scorched, charred, rasping, blackened. The marks it makes. It's rough and refined and wild and tame. It's mine, my love and my obsession.

Fire.

And it disappears with a twitch of my finger, the small flame extinguished from the top of the lighter without a trace. But I long for the tiny fierce friend and another flick of my thumb brings the fire back. On and off and on and off and on and off and on.

I stretch out my fingers to where the tips are almost touching the little flame, forcing myself not to recoil from the heat. Passing my hand quickly back and forth from the fire, I allow a light chuckle. I am the master of the fire and the fire is my mistress. It's mine, all mine, to obey my commands and then eat, eat, eat whatever it grasps in its burning embrace. I flick the lighter off again at the sudden piercing voice that interrupts my fun.

"Hey! Pyro-freak! Reaping in half an hour!" Sparkie- that name that is associated with me more than with her- flings my bedroom door open and glares at me, "So go get ready to leave, psycho."

Aren't older sisters the best?

I slip my lighter in my pants pocket and move silently to the bathroom. The rest of the Acoba family moves about in the more public rooms but I lock the bathroom door behind me and gaze into the mirror.

Eccentric, they say as they point to my pale skin, dark freckles, and burgundy hair. Gay, some crueler ones might add as they scrutinize the dark eyeliner I so carefully apply. Untrue. I simply like to look my best, and wearing makeup around my eyes is a way of making that possible.

I smooth down my dark red hair, carefully arranging each piece. Not a hair can be out of place. Not a speck of dirt can reside under my nails. I am proud of being immaculate and I will not refuse hygiene to myself because the others think I'm odd. I have friends. I have fire. I have myself. See? Already I'm better off than the huge majority of the district.

I leave the house by the back door instead of the front, doing everything to avoid my sister Sparkie and my parents. If Dad sees me he'll focus on any motion I make toward my lighter. He's not fond of me setting things on fire in the backyard. Sparkie will blatantly insult me. Mom, sweet simple mother, will overlook my fire as 'kids being kids' and I can't stand that today.

Pyromania is not just 'kids being kids'. Get it straight.

I follow the sidewalk to the town square and get in line at the check-in station, not bothering to worry about being harassed.

They spew insults at me from a distance, but once I pinpoint a perpetrator they will not escape without my marks. Bruises, cuts, even broken bones. I can take down eighteen-year-olds, because I'm stronger than I look and all of them are weak.

There are three people that I allow to come into my circle. Vida. Soliloquy. Watts. All female, all just as obsessed as me. Not fire though.

I ignore the prick of pain that comes as the Peacekeeper registers me for the reaping and push past other teenagers to stand alone just outside the roped-off section.

"Elmo Acoba! The cards told me you were going to die a terrible death!" Vida. There she is, shrill voice with a handful of tarot cards.

"You know who else dies a terrible death?" I quip, "People that I don't like." I'm being sarcastic of course, why kill someone? But the three girls laugh nonetheless. "How will I die this time?"

"Today, a ceremony of the chosen will send you to your doooom!" Soliloquy pounces on me from behind, "Or at least that's what Vida said earlier." I push the blonde girl away from me and pat my hair back into place.

"So, I'll get reaped?"

Vida nods gravely. "The cards showed an inevitable step towards your doom, Elmo."

"Come on, you've been saying that for years. We all know I'm more likely to burn down _your_ house than I am to be chosen."

"Well, we are all going to perish sometime. You might as well go earlier than the rest of us," Watts says from a few feet away. She tilts her head to the side thoughtfully, probably thinking over the many scenarios in which we could die.

I have such great friends.

"Perhaps it will be my time today, but there are still fires I plan to set," I think aloud, "Truly, dying is not something I plan to do anytime soon."

"Let us turn to our places, then, and regroup after the ceremony," Soliloquy suggests, "We can focus on our deaths later."

We all give our assent and disperse. I stand at the edge of my section and glare at the other boys who huddle there. Whispers fly through the air. The masses never tire of gossip.

"Freak."

"He wouldn't be such a freak if he didn't wear that stupid makeup. Maybe he's a girl."

"Don't forget he's not just a freak. He's fire freak."

"Hmph. Maybe he'll just fall into his precious flames one day." _And maybe if I knew who was speaking I'd give them a scar to remember me by_. Clenching my fists, I try to hold myself back. It is not the time for retribution. Instead of attacking the group of boys who I think are the ones brazenly insulting me, I turn my attention to the Mayor who has taken his place onstage. The Treaty of Treason will shut all the stupid kids up and let me relax a little bit.

"PIKACHUUU!" That is not the mayor speaking. It's the escort, who has burst onstage in full Capitol getup, bright yellow with black stripes on his back and a huge fake lightning bolt tail and ears. Oblivious to the fact that he has disrupted the ceremony, he hops about for a few moments, showing off his costume, before presenting the girls' reaping bowl. "And our ladies…" he begins, selecting a name, "MARLEE STARK, I CHOOSE YOU!" I whip my head around to the huddles of girls, searching for the disturbance. There's a commotion in the older girls, and one breaks free.

She doesn't make it three steps before the Peacekeepers take her down and shove her in the direction of the stage. "MARLEE USED CONFIDENCE! IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE!" our escort cries, welcoming the girl onto the stage. This Marlee has light brown skin and wild wiry dark hair, and she seems emotionless.

She retreats to a corner and seems to take no notice of the crowd as our escort reaches for another tribute's name. He doesn't seem quite as enthusiastic this time around, though. "ELMO ACOBA!" I flinch.

"Ooh, our pretty pyro boy's going on an adventure!" one of the idiots nearby teases. Now I can pinpoint the speaker, a raven-haired boy with dirt caked under his fingernails and a ragged old shirt.

I refuse to move. I will not identify myself.

Unfortunately, the people around me have stepped away as if being reaped is contagious, revealing my location to the Peacekeepers. They advance on me; instead of reacting or running like my district partner- because now Marlee is just that- I fiddle with my lighter.

And as they reach out to drag me forward, I move. One Peacekeeper is pushed aside easily, being too surprised to defend himself. His buddies are more prepared though, and they snatch at me. I pull my lighter from my pocket and the flame appears in an instant. I shove it into one man's face and I catch a whiff of scorched flesh in return for my actions. Maybe I didn't want to do it, but it was necessary.

I'm caught up again when a female Peacekeeper trips me. My lighter skitters across the paving stones, the small flame extinguished by the time I grab it. The Peacekeeper pulls my arms behind my back and shoves me forward, but I scream and fight back.

I will not go.

I land a kick on someone's kneecap and get a satisfying crack in return. It's all wild and I can't see and I only can fight back but I can't flick my fire on.

"Let go of me! Let go!"

"Shut up, boy!" Accompanying these words, a hand is planted in the small of my back. I go sprawling on the stairs of the Justice Building and everything calms down. There's no point in fighting, no point in screaming or attempting to escape. There's no point in flicking my lighter back up into the fire.

"Are there any volunteers?" No. There are none. Nobody wants me to live now. Nobody wants me to come back.

I turn almost robotically to Marlee Stark, holding out my hand in cooperation with the ceremony. She takes no notice and I smirk. She does not see the freak in me. She does not see me at all. And I am just fine with that.

Our mayor steps forward after our escort retreats, ending the ceremony with some final words about the importance of the Games. It is odd, but in the absence of the Treaty he might as well have the last word. I don't care. I won't be here for another Reaping Day.

I scan the crowd for the people I actually give a crap about. Sparkie's there in her section. She's done with reapings now, but she looks devastated. She's upset? Really? I snort a little. She cared. My parents seem upset, but that's nothing new. My three friends stand together, watching me with stony faces. Vida has this look on her face- _I told you so_. Because, for once, her precious cards were right.

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**This was a fun district to write even though Elmo was... well, difficult to get right. :) Oh, and in case you're wondering about Mr. Acoba's name, hublub has said that 'elmo' is a type of electrical phenomenon in ships. **

**Please tell me what you thought about Marlee and Elmo! XD**


	8. District Four Reapings

**District Four time! :) This is a Career district, don't forget! Our boy Cal McCullin is from stareyed-in-LA and our girl Sawyer Aurora is from SafeEyesOpen. I hope you like it, so R&R :)**

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DISTRICT FOUR MALE: CALDER MCCULLIN

The sun is shining warm on the sand and the wind whips my shaggy sandy hair across my face. The waves are stirred into a picture-perfect scene. Nothing's wrong, there's nothing out of place. The day is sweet.

I grab my surfboard and rush into the blue tide, whooping and splashing with every bit of energy I can muster- which is a lot. The guys follow me in, equally loud. We're soon knee-deep in the water and I look around at them with a mischievous grin on my face. "Go!" I shout with a laugh. I slide onto my board and start paddling. Further out in the ocean there are bigger waves, not really good for surfing but they'll still be fun to mess around on.

Pedro cuts through the water ahead of me, using his huge bulk to push copious amounts of water out of his way. The fifteen-year-old is built like a whale or something. He gets out into the deep water fast and sits on his board, waiting for us.

"Dude, hold up!" I call out, paddling as fast as I can to close the distance between us. Pedro splashes water at me as I approach, but I'm used to the salty spray after years of swimming in it and it doesn't hinder me. I'm next to the other boy in no time flat. Glancing behind me, I see Hudson, Caliban, and Caliban's little brother Ferdinand catching up. "Quick, bro, keep going!" Pedro and I move out even further, keeping our friends from reaching us. I manage a laugh as I swim without getting too much saltwater in my mouth.

"Let 'em catch up now, Cal," Pedro says as he stops paddling forward. I reluctantly halt as well and watch for the others. There's Caliban, and Ferdinand… Hudson?

All of a sudden I'm tugged off my board and pulled underwater. "Who-bglpgfgfblg!" It takes a while for me to pop back to the surface and splutter out all of the water I managed to take in, but once I'm safely on my surfboard again I know exactly who took me down.

"Hudson, dude, you need to stop letting your mom cut your hair." I glance at the boy's awkward bowl cut, not improved by its soaking.

"Bro, she practically ties me down. It's not like I want this stupid pudding-bowl haircut." Hudson tries to tip my board but I push him back casually. It gives him a sort of cowlick, at which I can't help but guffaw.

"There. That's better!"

Caliban, who has finally made it over to our location, snorts with laughter. Ferdinand smiles but doesn't get excited or rambunctious. Pfft. I've told him a thousand times that we'll eventually get that seriousness out of him. That kid is bogus.

I slip off my board into the warm water, treading water for a few moments before floating on my back. "You know, dudes, the waves aren't too good today."

"Your point being, bro?" Caliban asks impatiently.

I shoot him an impish grin. "Sweet. You guys never let me down. We don't care about these waves. Let's surf anyway!" I lunge for my surfboard, hauling myself onto it and preparing for the next wave. They're enough to surf on, but it's nothing good enough for cool moves. But you just gotta go with the flow. For me, that means literally.

Ferdinand is struggling to make it on his board. I roll my eyes and paddle over to the younger boy, lifting him into the right position by his soggy shirt collar. Caliban nods to show thanks and then, quick as the silver fish that swim beneath us, we're off. The wave is coming.

With practiced motions I maneuver into the swell of water and emerge on the crest of the wave. It's easy now to stand on the surfboard, but I remember when I wobbled every time I tried to rise. Hudson still shakes a little, and Ferdinand can barely stay upright. Even as I catch a glimpse of the fourteen-year-old, he wipes out. "_Gnarly,_" I laugh to myself.

No matter how many times I do this, it holds the same deep thrill. The water, the exhilarating rush of speed and salty spray, the wild laughter of my bros: they all feed the same wonder that surfing always brings.

As the wave rolls toward the shore my bros back off and begin to move back out to wait for the next good crest. Feeling wilder than ever, I don't stop. It's a crazy feeling, but here I'm in control of myself, more than anywhere else.

But it all comes crashing down as I wipe out, and wipe out hard. I could have stopped myself, really. I just… didn't. I didn't want to stay up. I didn't want the authority. I wanted to fall. Because a fall keeps you safe. Stay up too long and you'll get hurt bad. A wipe out on the rocks, a run-in with a sandbar… it's better to let yourself wipe out in the water.

I break the surface of the water and grab at my board, which is gently floating a little way away. It's getting late in the morning and I can't be out here for much longer, no matter how important surfing with my bros is to me. "Hey, guys!"

"What is it, dude?" Caliban's voice is faint over the dull roar of the breakers. They're pretty far out, and I'm almost at the shore.

"We've gotta come in!" I can barely hear the groans of disappointment from Pedro and Caliban, but Ferdinand and Hudson come paddling right away. I drag my surfboard onto the sand and wait for the others to arrive. A few minutes pass before they heave themselves onto land beside me.

"What is this, dude?" Ferdinand pipes up, "There was a good wave coming!"

"The one day we can't stay out all morning, bro. Reaping day. My mom drilled it into my skull."

"Hey, my mom might give terrible haircuts, but you _listen _to yours," Hudson jokes, poking me in the side.

"I bet I'd have a similarly god-awful style to yours if I didn't listen!" I elbow Hudson back. Before long we've lapsed into a poke fight and Pedro's laughing his head off. The mirth is infectious and soon we're all lying back in the sand, chortling, clutching our sides.

"Bros… I seriously need to get going," I say, standing up and holding my surfboard under one arm. Still chuckling, they wave me off and stay in the sand. I leave them with one last grin and turn my back on the beach.

My home isn't far from the water since Dad works on the fishing vessels, but even by the time I reach the house my shorts, full of sand, are chafing against my legs and my sun-lightened hair is stiffened with salt.

Walking in the door unheralded, I dash upstairs and practically leap into the shower, letting the salt and sand flow away from my body. However much I love the ocean I'd rather not have its residue caked on me. After I dry off and pull on underwear and a blue-green shirt, I realize I don't know where my pants are.

So I go questing. "Mom? Dad? Dillan?"

"Yeah, Cal?" Mom is the only one who replies but I know the others have heard me.

"Where are my pants?"

"They had better be on your body, boy," Dillan remarks from downstairs. I can't pass up the opportunity- I rush downstairs and sit on my older brother's lap.

"You couldn't be farther from the truth, Dill!"

He tries to shove me away or otherwise escape. "Get off!" I laugh but refuse to move until Mom comes into the room.

"Cal, leave your brother alone. There's a pair of khakis in the laundry room, I think." I slide off Dillan's lap, laughing, and go to grab the pants.

"You can be such a nuisance sometimes, Cal," Dillan calls after me.

"You just don't have a sense of humor, bro," I reply, patting him on the head as I pass by his chair. The pants are indeed in the laundry room. They're stiffened with salt and I grimace as I put them on but they'll have to do, I suppose.

"It's time to go to the ceremony, boys," a gruff voice announces.

"Yeah, Dad, sure. On my way," I say, mock-saluting him as I bound toward the door.

"Do you actually plan on wearing that?" my old man sighs.

I glance down. "Yeah… why?" Nothing seems too bad about it.

"Not the clothes, Calder." Dad gestures to my ear. I reach up and tap the gold earring hesitantly.

"Yeah, dude. Like always." I'd feel almost naked without it.

Dad gives me a slightly irritated look, like '_be a man, Cal,_' before waving me out the door. I plunge into the street, barreling up toward the Justice Building. It's quite a run, especially after surfing this morning. But it clears my head and gives me something to focus on for a while, so when I finally end up at the registration table I'm sore but in good spirits.

The man pricks my finger quickly- I barely notice the pain but it's there- and then I'm off to my section with the other sixteen-year-olds. Basically I'm here to stand around for half an hour or so while two kids go off to the Games and then I'll be back out on the ocean, spear fishing with Dad or surfing with my bros.

Well, speak of the devil. There they are now.

Caliban and Hudson catch sight of me before they even get checked in, and Hudson flails his arms in the air frantically until I acknowledge him. Before another minute has passed they're at my side, and we're laughing and joking and talking about the waves from this morning.

We're still messing around when the Mayor steps forward. In fact, just as the crowd goes silent for the ceremony, Hudson brings up one of his puns. "Practice safe eating- use condiments!"

And everyone's eyes are on us. Trying to hide the crimson flush that's creeping up my neck, I wave and put on a huge smile. All the guys around me crack up, and even one of the mentors, a serious man called Kindi, quirks his lips in a faint smile. The other, a young lady we all call Mags, just rolls her eyes.

The Treaty is rushed and boring as ever, but when the escort steps up even my bros and I hush up. Hortia has made a return from last year, in the exact same magenta ribbons and swirly mauve tattoos.

She gives me the creeps. I always thought Capitol chicks were supposed to be cute, but this woman's far from that.

"Well, time again for the selection of two courageous tributes to compete in the annual Hunger games!" she shrieks, "Last year, we did all right, didn't we District Four?" A halfhearted cheer is the response, in which I don't participate. Alex and Camilla were good people who didn't deserve to die. "Ladies, you're first! Your tribute is- Nixie Edhla!" The girl is my age; I know her from school. However, she's not going to be competing.

Already there's a volunteer onstage, a _seriously hot_ girl with reddish-brown hair, green eyes, and a nice tan. She hasn't called out, she didn't run up. She just… got there suddenly. Nixie doesn't even have to come up to the stage.

"I'm Sawyer Aurora," the girl says simply, "I'm eighteen. And I'm your female tribute." The district claps politely and the girl smiles. She's strong though, definitely trained.

"Now for your boy!" Hortia cries out, snatching up a name, "Calder McCullin!" I shrug, sauntering up to the stage. Everyone knows that Rodrigo Palos-Verdes is going to volunteer. "Are there any volunteers?"

Rodrigo doesn't step up. In fact, I can see him from here, balanced on crutches in the eighteens section- my brother is standing near him with a blank look on his face.

"Oh dude, this is totally bogus!"

DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: SAWYER AURORA

Nobody else is going to make it onto that stage today- that is for sure. Today is my day and my day alone.

My only problem is getting up there. I may be faster than the other girls who plan to volunteer but I don't know when they'll make a break for it. I can't let them surprise me even for a split second. But where do I stand? If I move to the front of the eighteens section I won't be able to observe the others and then I would lose an advantage. If I stand further back, someone closer to the stage could get enough of a head start that I wouldn't be able to catch up in the short time it takes to get to the escort.

Really, the best place is the steps of the Justice Building. It's the only way to make sure that I'm the only one with a chance of success in volunteering. But that's sort of a bad idea. I'd get thrown off before the ceremony even started. I scan the front of the Justice Building, looking for a good spot to wait. No, not a good spot- a good spot would be in the allotted section. I want the best spot.

My eyes land not on a location but a person. A young Peacekeeper, no older than twenty. I don't recognize him, but I can easily see that he's nervous. He's terrible at hiding emotions- he must still be in training. I bet this is his first visit to District Four. Perfect.

Instead of walking to the roped-off areas, I strut to the man's side, flashing him a smile as he turns to me. "Do you need anything, miss?" he stutters, flicking a piece of fair hair out of his eyes.

"Oh, no, I'm fine. A little sore after checking in, maybe, but I'm fine." I hold up my finger, which has a tiny bead of blood on it from where they pricked my finger, and pout melodramatically. It doesn't hurt at all.

"Well, in that case, ma'am, I'll have to ask you to return to the sectioned areas." He seems relieved that I'm not distressed and asking for help.

"Aw, I just wanted to chat! You're new here, aren't you? You're not one of the usual Peacekeepers." He seems suspicious but I smile again and his gaze softens a bit. Pfft. Boys. So easy to manipulate.

"Yeah, I'm new. Just started Peacekeeper training six months ago in District Two and this is my first assignment." The words spill out easily and I nod and smile.

"That's so cool! Is being a Peacekeeper, like, totally hardcore and stuff?" Ugh, I hate this ditzy side of my interactions with others. But it gets boys to talk to me and right now that's what I need to happen.

"Oh yeah, there's a lot of hard work involved. I'm strong though, it's no big deal." Oh, look at him, he's trying to impress me. Loser. I bet he's barely scraping past this training. I giggle vapidly and twist a piece of my dark hair around my finger before he speaks again. "In fact, I'm one of the strongest ones in training. Once, we were learning how to take people down in hand-to-hand combat, and I beat our officer!"

What a liar. I can see it in his eyes. He's trying so hard it's almost cute. I look at him admiringly nonetheless and I can practically see his ego swelling. "So, why are you here, gorgeous?" And now he's flirting.

I'm aware of the Mayor stepping forward to read the Treaty of Treason, but I've got this boy so focused on me that he doesn't try to send me back to my spot. "Well, you're kinda cute. And I just had this terrible breakup with my boyfriend and I was thinking that maybe there was someone nice that could make me feel a bit better. District Four boys are so overrated!"

There he goes again, puffing out his chest in pride. Tugging on my dress to reveal an extra half-inch of skin, I step a little closer to the young man. I now have a perfect view of the other girls and the stage, and I'm much closer to the steps than any of the others.

Out of nowhere, the district bursts into laughter. I freak out a little bit with my nerves, but heads are turned towards the boys' reaping sections and so I ignore it as best I can. I keep flirting with the boy and smiling and giggling and trying not to gag at how shallow I must seem, but I focus on the escort now.

"Well, time again for the selection of two courageous tributes to compete in the annual Hunger games!" Hortia shrieks, "Last year, we did all right, didn't we District Four?"

"So, I'm stationed at the marina in the afternoons if you ever want to meet me there…" Cute Peacekeeper Boy tells me. This time, I don't even pretend to listen. I begin to creep closer to the Justice Building.

"Ladies, you're first! Your tribute is- Nixie Edhla!" I know the girl. She's sixteen, popular, and bubbly. We've talked a few times, we're not friends but she's nice enough. And she's not going into the Games.

I see a few other girls tense up to make a run for the stage, but a few quick strides and I'm standing next to the escort. The shocked looks from the crowd are priceless- it must have looked like I appeared out of nowhere.

I win. I always win.

Everyone knows I'm not Nixie- even garish Hortia realizes that I'm a volunteer. I pluck the microphone from her hands and introduce myself. "I'm Sawyer Aurora. I'm eighteen. And I'm your female tribute." The district cheers at the powerful tribute they've gotten and I hand back the microphone, satisfied. The sour, crestfallen looks on the other volunteers' faces are hilarious.

"Now for your boy!" Hortia, even more enthusiastic (who knew it was possible?), practically floats over to the boys' bowl and chooses a name. "Calder McCullin!" A tall, sandy haired boy with one gold earring strolls casually up to the stage. Hortia looks around expectantly for any early volunteers, but she resorts to asking directly.

Nobody moves. The boy who scared everyone else into not volunteering, Rodrigo, has broken his leg. No one is prepared to take his place.

It takes Calder a few seconds, but when he realizes it, he reels backwards. "Dude, this is totally bogus!"

I'm momentarily stunned by his slang, but I snap back to focus when I have to hold back a snort of laughter. This is my district partner? He's strong enough, I suppose, but nowhere close to managing a victory with me in the Arena. We shake hands firmly.

"Your tributes for the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games- Sawyer Aurora and Calder McCullin!" Hortia cries. With that, we move into the Justice Building. Calder doesn't seem too shocked- upset and distressed yes, but not shocked.

I will have exactly one visitor, even though I have not made myself an outcast in the district. My daddy is the one who knows me well enough, who cares about me enough to come say goodbye.

The door slams open and he pushes through the Peacekeepers to me. "You did it!" he gruffly exclaims, "Sawyer, you were pefect! Especially good job ensuring your position as tribute. That kid Peacekeeper never saw that coming!"

"I'm doing this for you, Daddy!" I reply sweetly- genuinely, "I'm so glad I did it right!"

Daddy kneels down in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders, his bald head gleaming under the lights of the room. "Sawyer, when your mother left you with me I promised that I would raise you right. And, to the best of my abilities, I have. I taught you how to make your own way in this world, how to get the things you need, how to defend yourself, and how to fight. Winning the Games will be a piece of cake for you, sweetheart."

"I couldn't have had a better mentor!" I fling my arms around his neck.

"But you told me that you were volunteering for the business. Not the glory, not the fame- good, because that doesn't matter."

"Whatever information you need, I can get it for you."

"I have indeed taught you well, daughter." Daddy says, smiling at me.

"So, what stuff do you need? From whom? Where can I find them, and what do I need to do?" Daddy's business, which helps people erase their criminal records, is always in need of new information for the current clients. And information in such an illegal business doesn't come easy.

"I need database code updates from the Peacekeeper Headquarters. Find Aurelius Casca and tell him to get them to me. I need the current rebel activities log information from Ligarius Alexandros. For those, wait until after the Games and then you'll have to actually get into the log server, encrypt the entries for the past month, and send them to me, scrambling the data. You know how, right?" I nod. Daddy's taught me basic technological knowhow. "And last, tell Cassius Marullus that he has been wiped from the criminal records. He's a Gamemaker. You'll see him."

I store away the information for eventual accomplishment. I wasn't instructed to volunteer. I chose to, to help Daddy. Because I wanted to assist the business and I know I can win the Games. He's done so much for me, this is how I can repay him.

"All right, Daddy, I can do that."

"Good girl. Just like always, don't get caught. And come home. I really love you, Sawyer."

"I love you too, Daddy." He rises to his feet, and even though I'm tall I have to stand on my tiptoes to give him a kiss and a good hug. He wraps me in his tree-trunk arms and I smile into his shoulder. I feel like a little girl, just sharing an embrace with her father. I almost feel normal.

"You're strong. We know that. But even the strongest have to watch their backs. Never let your guard down, even for a second."

"Of course I won't. You've taught me everything I need to know."

"There are some things we have to learn for ourselves, Sawyer. For me, it was how to raise a child. For you, well, I'm not sure exactly what it will be, but it's coming fast. Be ready."

I hug Daddy again. "You're the best dad a girl could ever want," I whisper, "Thank you for loving me."

"After your mother left, I couldn't leave you, Sawyer. I couldn't leave then, and I never will. In fact it's hard letting you do this, even though you're more than capable, because there is always a chance that I could lose you. Don't let yourself become too arrogant. I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too. I will live, and come home, Daddy. I promise. I love you."

And he leaves and I'm alone.

And I'm ready to win. I always win.

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**Yes, there you have it, District Four! Dear funny Cal and confident, manipulative Sawyer. And a quick reminder that the more you review, the greater chance your character has at survival. :3 So tell me what you thought!**


	9. District Ten Reapings

**Back once again, this time with District Ten (Meghan, here are your beloved peasants :3). Our girl Inez Carmen is from LexisZ-10 and our boy Aedan Arthur is from DA Member-Hogwarts. :) Enjoy!**

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DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: INEZ CARMEN

I awake to the harsh beeping of my alarm clock. Blearily sitting up, I glance at the small clock face. It sends me into a small panic and I tear the bedclothes away from my legs and leap out of bed. It's six forty-seven A.M. and I am usually awake by six thirty! I don't even bother getting dressed for the day before dashing to the kitchen. I feel terrible. I was supposed to make breakfast- let Mother and Father sleep in and relax and take some of the work on myself. Now I've just brought more trouble on an already anxious day.

I arrive in the kitchen with bits of dark hair frizzing in my face, just in time to see Mother pour out a portion of pancake batter onto the griddle. She hears me enter and turns around smiling. "Good morning, Inez!" her voice is tired but warm; I feel bad when I detect a hint of disappointment. I promised her I would get everything ready this morning, and now I've failed her.

"Good morning, Mother," I mumble back, "Do you need any help?"

Mother smiles at my offer. Isadora would never offer to help after she had already messed up. "Certainly, Inez, go ahead." She hands me the bowl of batter and a spatula and I turn to pouring more pancakes. I carefully scrape out more batter onto the griddle, forming the neatest pancake I can. Even my food preparation is meticulous, and-

"Isadora! What were you thinking, sneaking out like that? It's an important day today, young lady, and you disappeared in the middle of the night!" My younger sister gets all the attention. I mean, she screws up all the time, while I try my hardest to do everything right, and this makes me feel underappreciated. She does bad and gets attention while I do well and get nothing.

Mother and Father love me, but leave me on my own. It's nice to be trusted, but what point is trust when I never go outside the comfort zone my parents have raised me in? They don't even have to trust me at parties or with boys, because those things don't interest me.

Isadora has been caught sneaking up to her room, probably from a night out dancing and kissing and even some alcohol. "What, it's not like you actually had to worry," my sister replies nonchalantly. I blanch at her attitude, but focus on the pancakes again, carefully flipping them on the griddle. If I get involved with this newest confrontation it will only cause Mother and Father more stress. Isadora gives them enough problems for both of us- I have to be the one who keeps all the rules in careful order.

Maybe, if I went along with her just once or twice, I could understand my sister better, and be able to help her work with our parents instead of against them- who knows? I could even have a little fun…

"Isadora, the way you act reflects badly on all of us! Dear, think before you go out like this!"

No. I'm the one who does everything right. It would spoil my trusting, perfect relationship with my parents if they find out- and they keep on top of everything that Isadora and I do. They would find out and I would be ruined. I'm perfectly fine to stay inside the rules.

"Love you too, Mother."

I pile the pancakes on a chipped plate and set them on the table. After pouring beverages for everyone and setting the table, I quietly move up behind Mother and Isadora and tap Mother's shoulder. "Breakfast is ready," I say.

"Thank you for helping, Inez," she says absentmindedly, still focused on Isadora.

"Yeah, thanks, sis," the sixteen-year-old shoots me a grin and plops down in a chair. Mother goes to the other side of the house to fetch Father, so I take a seat as well.

"Isadora, you really should stop sneaking out and partying-" I begin.

"What, so people don't think I'm a slut?" I wince. "Oh, I forgot, you're sensitive to 'language'. Sorry, sis. Get over it. But seriously, I'm the only one in this whole family who has any real fun."

"That's not true!"

"Well, look at yourself and Mother and Father! You like to do chores and study. Our parents like to work. It's so boring. Haven't you ever wanted to just… let go? Lose control?"

"Of course not! We need morals, not alcohol. We need order, not wild behavior! Isadora, I love you, but this isn't right!"

"Says the one who spends all her spare time reading textbooks. That's unnatural." I can only pout at my sister's words until Mother and Father come into the kitchen. Isadora has the sense to stop talking. I help Mother serve the food.

"Thank you, Inez," father says warmly, patting the top of my head with his rough hand. I smile, even though I feel a bit childish. I'm eighteen and my parents still pat me on the head.

We all begin to eat, and I quickly finish my food. I need to get ready and head out- it's already eight o'clock and here in Ten the reapings begin at nine. I politely excuse myself from the table, clear away my dishes, and hurry up to my room to prepare myself. Appearance is important even if you do not judge someone by their image. You never can change a first impression.

I slip on a modest pale purple dress and brush out my long dark hair. I look all right, I suppose, nothing special but presentable and tidy. I can hear Isadora thumping around in her room, and curiously I go and peek in to see if she's all right.

She sits on her bed miserably, dressed to go but certainly unwilling to leave. "What's wrong, Isadora?" I ask.

"You're so perfect! They love you and hate me!" I barely dodge a hairbrush.

"Of course I'm not perfect. Anyway, you're the one who ends up with all the attention." I sit next to Isadora and lay my hand on her wrist- the copper colors of our skin match perfectly.

"Because you're too perfect to need watching," Isadora tries to turn away from me again.

"That doesn't mean I crave parental attention. You get so much of their time and love, it feels like I'm on my own sometimes!"

"Come party with me, then you'll get attention." I bluntly refuse the offer. I suspect sarcasm was present in her statement, but I can't risk that assumption, not really. I begin to braid Isadora's hair, and it relaxes her some. "Just don't expect things to change if you don't change too."

It's almost time to leave. I drop the finished braid and Isadora puts her scuffed shoes on.

Mother and Father will take a different path to the audience sections of the ceremony, but Isadora and I will be going to the check-in stations. "Take care, girls," Father waves goodbye as he speaks.

"Inez, look after your sister!" I nod to my mother as I walk out of the house.

Our ranch is one of the closest to the main town, so Isadora and I are there in almost no time. We check in quickly, cringing as the Peacekeepers prick our fingers, and I immediately head for my section. Isadora goes to hers as well, even without prodding from me, because she sees some girls she knows. I stand alone, though. There are some people I'm familiar with here already, but mostly I talk to them about academic things and since we're not in school right now there's not a point to go over to them. They are nice girls, but a little rougher than I'm used to.

After a few moments Emily arrives. She's the only person I've ever met with a set of morals that truly matches mine. We basically talk schoolwork as well, but we can spend time together and not be offended or put off in any fashion.

I smile at the petite blonde and she makes her way over to me. "Are you ready for your last reaping ceremony, Inez?" she chirps.

"Of course, Emily. It will be so nice to not have to worry about this every year. The Games are sad, certainly, and I will continue to mourn the tributes that we lose, but the Capitol has done this for years and deemed it effective. They would not kill without purpose, right? Even though killing is one of the worst things that one can do…" Emily nods in absentminded agreement and the conversation dies. We just don't have much to say today. The anxiety is terrible. I almost feel sick.

Mayor Winchester steps forward and begins the Treaty of Treason. I remain quiet through the entire speech, trying my best to keep my focus on the ceremony. I'm afraid but this is sort of important. The Games are terrifying so these moments cannot be taken lightly.

We have a new escort this year, an older man who calls himself Alpha Omega. He uses a cane to walk, but he has a grace in his stride that seems effortless. The man is reserved but smooth, and he seems like he could be a professional speaker. He's very collected.

"Today we shall choose another pair of brave young people to represent this majestic district in the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games," he begins with a flourish of his cane, "And so, we shall select from the ladies first." He goes to the reaping bowl and dips his hand in, deftly plucking out a name.

_It's my last year, please, I don't want to be chosen, it can't be me, please, just one more name! _The poor girl will go into a terrible place, and I will grieve her. But I am afraid of death and I desperately fear being chosen for the Games. Emily slowly reaches over and grasps my hand for comfort. I squeeze her hand in return, gently, as a friend. We are afraid.

"Your female tribute is Inez Carmen!"

Everything swirls for a second and then stops. I'm frozen in place, it's like time turned into that quicksand that I've read about in books before. I fight to keep my breathing steady and my trembling under control. Isadora is freaking out in the sixteen year old section, and out of the corner of my eye I see Peacekeepers going to restrain her.

I force myself to turn my face into a blank mask and step forward. First impressions can never change, and if I want to live I need a good first impression. The Capitol values strength, so that it what I will try and show. Because I really, really want to live. I know I won't be able to kill. I know the Games change people into monsters. Maybe death would be better? No. I'm used to life. In fact, I'm rather attached to it. I am terrified of death in any form.

I make it up to the stage and Alpha ushers me to the spot where I am to stand.

The district is quiet except for my family's sobs and Emily's whimpers when Mr. Omega asks for volunteers. He moves on quickly to the boys' reaping bowl and chooses another name- the boy who will be going with me. "Aedan Arthur, please step forth!"

A tall boy with dark blonde hair and freckles comes out of the sixteens, agape with fear. He shakes it off, though, and I'm aghast as he begins to make a joke out of it- teasing the cameras, making faces, almost dancing his way to the stage. I can't imagine killing him.

I don't want to see this boy die, but how can he survive if he doesn't even take life seriously? And how could I even think about killing someone who seems so friendly?

DISTRICT TEN MALE: AEDAN ARTHUR

I'm dressed and flying out of the house within minutes of opening my eyes. I don't even see my parents and siblings awake yet, but I'm bouncing around like a hyper puppy. I'm the one who gets excited over the animals. Our horses' new foal arrived yesterday and now I'm sure the little filly will be walking. I love the baby animals here, they're always begging for attention and I'm the one who bothers to give it to them.

I almost forget my shoes as I run out to the stables- in fact, I'm outside before I remember. Laughing at myself, I grab them and pull them on before dashing out to the horses.

Most of the animals are munching on the last bits of the night feed, but when I enter they look up expectantly- a few, Daire and Aoife and Caoimhe, whinny at me for more food. I chuckle and oblige, but I don't spend as much time as I normally do with each of the horses. I have a new foal to obsess over.

Roisin whickers softly at me when I come to see her- she's my horse after all, the one I ride that is, and she trusts me. I know she'll let me near her baby. I slowly approach Roisin and she steps aside a little, revealing the filly.

The little horse is black except for a white streak on her forehead. I reach out and stroke the pale stripe with one finger- the filly flinches back but I calm her down pretty quickly. She's wobbly, but she can stand and move around just fine. I grin.

Sharla will love this little horse, and she'll quickly claim her. My youngest sister is the only one who hasn't chosen her own mount yet. The rest of us just find our horses and go to work with the cattle in the fields, but Sharla needs her own. She's just getting big enough to ride, anyway, so this foal will be grown just at the right time. Perfect. I'm glad my youngest sister will get this adorable little thing. She's so sweet she deserves an equally cute equine companion.

I sit down on the dirt floor of the stable and carefully examine Roisin's baby. "Aren't you the cutest little thing? Healthy enough and certainly nice- I remember when Lorcan was born, he was the worst-tempered colt you'd ever meet!" No surprise then that my brother chose him… "Look at you, you're the only black horse we've got. A black horse, huh. Like I'm the black sheep, maybe?" I smile and run a finger along the filly's nose. She snorts and falls backwards. I laugh. "What should we call you, then? Emer's a good name. Do you like it?" She doesn't respond in any way- not that I was really expecting her to- but now she'll be Emer. I do most of the naming, really. My siblings don't care about names that much.

The little thing nudges me, maybe looking for food or a pat, but I can only supply the latter. Roisin is getting a little restless, so I let Emer go with a last rub behind the ears. "Your daughter's adorable, girl," I say to my horse, kissing her lightly on the nose, "See you later, all right?" She neighs softly and I leave, carefully closing the stable door behind me.

"Well, if it isn't my awkward little embarrassment," a voice from behind makes me jump, but I'm thrown off guard just a bit more from the shove.

"Love you too, Fergal," I reply to my older brother, picking myself up from the ground and running my hands through my dark blond hair.

"What were you doing, eating with the animals?"

"Visiting the new foal," I mutter.

"Well, we're about to have breakfast, Mom and Dad sent me out here after you. You're always out here with your precious animals, you know that? It's like you'd rather be a horse than human." I can't resist neighing loudly at that and bursting into laughter, but Fergal clenches his fists and I clam up pretty fast. Well, if I'm a horse he's a cow.

The entire family is at the table waiting for me by the time Fergal prods me inside. Six more pairs of eyes focus on me; I can feel my cheeks flushing a little bit and I smile awkwardly in greeting before sitting down. There's oatmeal, plain oatmeal. Well, for me at least. My sisters have used up the cinnamon that we have for spices. And Farah has even sprinkled some on Fergal's meal.

Sometimes I really do wish that I got along with my siblings.

"So, we've got four of you who have to be at the reaping?" my mom says wearily, "Fergal, you're done, but Farah, Cora, Emilia, and… Aiden, that's right, will be eligible this year. All right. You have ten minutes before you have to be on your way, okay kids?" We all mumble assent through mouthfuls of oatmeal.

Nobody wants to get in trouble this early in the morning so there isn't a single snide comment from Farah or Cora, no whining from Emilia- and no talking with my mouth full. Without any real conversation I'm finished eating in just a few minutes and on my way to the room I share with Fergal to change my shirt. I'd rather not smell like horse for the reaping.

WHAM! Suddenly my face is pressed against the rough wooden floor and from the corner of my eye I see Fergal drawing his foot back under the table.

"Aedan, are you okay?" Mom and Dad fret. Sharla has her hands over her mouth in the picture of concern.

I pull myself to my feet and nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… took a fall." I don't have the heart to start a fight on Reaping Day.

Farah's got her pretty face screwed up trying not to giggle and Cora glares at me over her glasses. "You know, if you were in any way coordinated you would actually have a chance at popularity and intelligence. You wouldn't have to focus on watching your feet all the time. You get that, right?"

"Cora…" Dad warns. She smirks and shuts up.

Even though it was Fergal's fault, I don't argue and just creep up to my room. I may not be clumsy but I'm not popular or smart either. Just because Cora and the rest of them are, I get teased on every possible occasion. Except by Sharla of course. I pull on a clean plaid shirt and, as I hear Fergal coming to the room, I duck out the window just as he opens the door. "See ya later, bro!"

His unbelieving expression makes my day. I laugh and start off along the road to the main town, moving quickly to get a solid head start on my brother and sisters.

There are other farm kids on the road too and I wave to them and greet them as I pass by. It's a pretty nice day out, so seeing everyone dejected and nervous makes me upset. Of course, it's not a day for celebration, but we could at least make an effort to me happy while we're all still here.

"Hey, Aedan!" I speed up to reach a group of teens who recognize me.

"How are you guys?" I ask when I reach them. A chorus of 'fine's and 'all right's and 'tired's assails my ears for a few moments but it's nice to have people to just talk to.

The group nudges a pretty girl with raven hair and green eyes forward. "Aedan, could you do me a favor?" she says. I think she was in my math class this past school year. Dian, I think her name is?

Man, she is cute. "Sure, I guess. Anything." She giggles, and I see some of the guys in the group holding their hands over their mouths.

"All right, will you go climb that tree and get that bag down for me, please? It has some of my books and stuff in it." I glance over at the huge dead tree she gestures to. It looks a little dangerous, but sure. Why not? I might even end up with a girl for a while. And anyway it can't hurt. I scamper ahead of the other kids to the tree and leap up into the lower branches. The bark is rough and brittle, some pieces flaking off when I touch them.

"Geez, it's really high up, isn't it? Why did you ask me to do this?" They don't reply, but I shrug it off and start climbing higher. I'm almost to the bag when a particularly brittle branch snaps under my weight and I tumble to the ground. "Oof!" I've got the wind driven out of me as I hit the ground, but the bag is secure in my hand. "Here," I say weakly.

The group is guffawing. Dian, shaking with silent laughter, steps over to me and plucks the bag out of my hands. "Thanks, Aedan!" They move on.

After a few minutes have passed (I even hear my sisters pass by, but they don't notice me under the tree), I sit up and rub my aching side. There'll be a bruise there in a few hours. Ouch. "Aedan, this is what I've been talking about!" A hand grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me roughly to my feet.

"What?" I turn to face my friend, Caitlyn, "What do you mean, this is what you've been talking about?"

"They're using you. They think you're awkward and funny and they know you'll do anything to help someone so they use you!"

"What? No, her bag was just stuck in the tree-"

"They got you to climb a dead tree so you would make them laugh when you fell."

"She needed help! Come on, Caitlyn, they're nice people. I must have just fallen funny. Besides, I like to make people laugh!"

"Aedan, you can be so thick sometimes. You are not the entertainment of the district. Be funny, don't be a toy."

"If this is what makes people laugh, so be it, Caitlyn. Get off my case."

The dark-haired girl rolls her eyes. "Admittedly, it was hilarious."

I grin. "And that's why I don't mind!" I make a goofy face and the girl smiles a little.

"Come on, we've got to get to the reaping ceremony and watch two kids get sent to their deaths. Let's go." She grabs my wrist and drags me down the road.

"Way to be negative, Cait. Can't we just, you know, go on slowly? It's happier out here, when we are alone!"

"It won't be happy for us when the Peacekeepers see us coming in during the middle of the reaping, Aedan, let's go. C'mon, we're sixteen. Just a few more and we'll be done!"

"It's Farah's last reaping today," I remember cheerfully. Maybe my oldest sister will mellow out some without the threat of the Games looming over her head.

"Hurry up, Aedan! However terrible the Hunger Games are, this is sort of important!" I jog after Caitlyn to the town square. Sure enough, the Peacekeepers give us suspicious looks, and I feel like a bug under a magnifying lens as they stare me down, but I give them a mock salute and slip into the crowd of teenagers.

We're later than I realized. A girl already has taken her place onstage. I can imagine the furious looks Caitlyn is sending me- 'that could have been me and I wouldn't have been here' sort of things.

"AEDAN ARTHUR!"

The fear rushes through me faster than I thought possible. My jaw drops as I step into the line of the cameras, but as the district focuses on me I immediately turn to the one thing I know how to do –embarrass myself.

I pull faces at some of the younger kids- they're torn between fear and amusement. With a weird little hopping dance I make my way to the stage and take the microphone from the depressed-looking escort with a grin.

"I don't think the arena can handle my awesome!"

But I don't think I can handle all this fear.

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**Please tell me what you thought! XD**


	10. District Six Reapings

**District Six, everyone! Last year home to Chandler Mathews and Lucia Greene, now supporting our girl Noalee Tyler from Thgfan9 (formerly istheplacewhereIloveyou) and our boy Kalen Ram from Thomas J. Flynn! (Ironic thing here: these two authors were district partners last year as well, with Sara Ross and Luis Thomsen from D12)**

**Oh wow I can't shut up about Rubber Rooms and Deadlines tonight :/ too bad for yoouuu**

**Enjoy! XD**

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DISTRICT SIX FEMALE: NOALEE TYLER

I tense up the second that I realize someone is following me. I can't let them know I've caught on to them, otherwise they'll only move in. Still, I have to escape before they catch up on their own. It's too dangerous on the streets of Six to let something like this continue for long. Of course, it's Reaping Day morning, so I don't think anyone would be so stupid as to try something bad when there are people in the streets, but you never know. There are some creeps out there.

I duck into a brightly lit shop and dash around some freestanding shelves to conceal myself. I know my shadow will have seen my detour, but they won't be able to find me without following me inside. Nobody would trust someone loitering at the entrance to a modest shop, so they'll come inside to look more natural. And I have a good view of the door from my hiding place.

My heart pounds as I wait for someone else to enter the store and I begin to gnaw on the inside of my cheek anxiously. It's only been a few seconds, but I want to throw this stalker and get on my way as soon as possible.

The door of the shop swings open, creaking wearily, and a huge man steps in. He's swathed in a dark coat- it's warm outside, he must be roasting- and what little I can see of his face is dark and craggy. I shrink back against the shelf, just wanting to disappear. This is the man who is following me? What is going on?

Glancing around the store casually, the man strolls to the counter and strikes up a conversation with the shopkeeper. I edge around the back of the shelves and move toward the door, trying to stay low to the ground and out of sight.

Finally, the dark man directs his full attention to the store owner and I dash out the door in an adrenaline rush. I slip through the clumps of people on the street to get a good twenty meters away from the store before glancing back. The man has not emerged and there is no sign of anyone on my trail. I lost him. Good. I turn cautiously back to my route and walk a little faster in the direction of the town square. I promised Mom and Dad I would get there on time. It's the first year they've let me go alone, and I had to fight to get that much privilege.

I only make it a few meters further before someone clamps their sweaty hand over my mouth and hauls me into a dingy alleyway that I was unfortunately standing right beside. I squeak and try and scream, but they've got a secure hold on me. In fact, this person drags me along so quickly that I can barely squirm. The blood pounds in my ears and I grab, white-knuckled, at the hand over my mouth.

Without ceremony I'm dumped on the gravel of the alley. I leap to my feet and whirl around to face my abductor, fists clenched. I'm expecting to see the scary man from the store, but the figure is shorter and lighter. And now, rolling on the ground laughing.

"Gotcha!" Hayden cries between snorts of laughter. I relax, but not much seeing as I'm more than a little shocked from being 'kidnapped'.

"What was that, you moron?" I cry, running my hand through my shoulder length brown hair.

"That was me scaring you, sweetheart," Hayden replies, standing up and walking over to me, "and it worked perfectly." He lays an arm across my shoulders, which I wriggle away from and punch the boy hard on the shoulder. He staggers back, "What was that?"

"That was me getting revenge, sweetheart," I mock, "and it worked perfectly." We both laugh at that. "Wait, were you the one trailing me? How did I not see you?"

He smirks. "I followed you into that shop all right, but I slipped in right behind that giant of a man and it was easy enough to hide." I can practically see Hayden's mind switching gears. "Come on, Noa, I need your help. There's a reason I came to find you." He starts to lead me out of the alley.

"What, other than the fact that we're dating and we're also best friends and you _know _you want to spend time with me?"

"Yeah, that too. But seriously, this is important." So I hold his hand and follow him through the streets. It's a while before Hayden slows down, but he's headed toward a back street.

"Another alley, Hayden? What's going on?"

"You know how there was a gang fight planned for last night?" I nod in reply, getting more and more wary every instant. "Well, there were complications."

"Weren't the Peacekeepers going to break it up before it started? I mean, my parents knew about it. It couldn't have gone on, could it?"

"Oh, the Peacekeepers were there. But the gangs didn't want them there. A few guys from each protested and some kids got hurt."

"Was it-"

"Look for yourself." I have to cling to Hayden to keep from barging into the alley. "His gang was the first to retreat. They didn't even know he was still there. The other guys were carried away pretty quickly."

Seeing the body, I hurry over to the familiar figure lying on the ground. There are dark bruises on his arms and face and a long cut on the left side of his face runs from his temple to his jaw. "Ace, why did you have to be brave?" I mutter, kneeling down beside the older boy. He's unconscious, but breathing strong. He'll live.

"I can't carry him by myself and right now you're the person I trust to help," Hayden says, "His gang doesn't know he's still here. We have to get him out ourselves." I nod and move around to lift Ace's shoulders; Hayden grabs his legs. Together we can lift him off the ground and carry him a few meters.

"Back to the gang's place?" I suggest. Hayden nods. We take back streets to the abandoned building, which was once a storage space for car parts. Now Ace's gang hangs out there.

Hayden knocks on the back door- four times slow and three times fast. The door is flung open at the sound of the code- Ace told us once so we could find him- and suddenly Hayden and I are face to face with two haggard teenagers. They tower over me- well, everyone towers over me but these men especially. One of them, Wolfboy, takes one glance at us and laughs sharply. "Come to join up at last, kids?"

Finder elbows him in the side and motions downward, directing Wolfboy's attention to the figure Hayden and I are holding. Wolf shuts up pretty quick.

"Get in here," Finder hisses, and pulls us inside. It smells like smoke. Finder drags Ace onto a table when we make it into the building.

"What's this?" the leader of the gang, Drakon, comes into the room. "Wolfboy, Finder- why are these kids here?" Wolf dashes over to Ace, his dreadlocks flying everywhere.

"They found Ace," Finder says, setting protective hands on mine and Hayden's shoulders. Drakon promptly ignores us and strides to the table.

"He's hurt, but not too bad," I pipe up.

"C'mere," Wolf says, "I think he's waking up." I run over to the table, pushing to see Ace and forcing Drakon to the side in the process. Hayden hangs further back.

Ace stirs and we all crowd around him expectantly. His gray eyes flicker open and he focuses on us, almost flinching back when he sees so many people hovering over him. "Nice to see that you're all still alive. Noa, what are you here for?"

"Hayden and I carried you here, idiot," I grin. Ace tries to sit up but it doesn't work. He groans and collapses back, holding his head.

"Ace, head trauma doesn't mix well with waking up," Drakon says dryly.

"You're telling me. At least this way I'm going to sleep and not to the reaping."

Finder nervously glances at Hayden and me, "We've got two kids who need to be there, though."

"I'm no kid, Finder, I'm fourteen!" I cross my arms and plant my feet.

"I'm nineteen. You and your little boyfriend both need to scram. We don't have plans to get caught out here because two outsiders did Ace a favor. Peacekeepers are on alert today- if one followed you here we're all busted."

"Ace!" I complain, hoping the older boy will stand up for us.

"Get on your way, Noa. And Hayden," he mutters. With a dangerous glare from Drakon, we reluctantly exit the building and start towards the ceremony. Hayden holds my hand as we walk.

"Look, Noa, you've got blood under your fingernails." I glance at my ragged nails- sure enough, there's dark red there, probably from Ace's wound. There's green too, from paint.

"I'm going to be murdered because we're late to the reaping, and you're noticing the blood under my fingernails? Geez, love you too, Hayden."

As we walk I brush myself off and rub at the dirt I'm sure covers my face. I don't want to be killed twice, for both my timing and my dirty face.

"Noa, you're trying to rub your freckles off now," Hayden pulls my hand away from my face.

"Not a bad idea, actually," I say sharply.

We reach the square as my father is finishing the Treaty of Treason. Great. I can almost hear the lecture I'll get later. _"How were you so late? Why are you so dirty? What were you and that Hayden boy up to?" _I sigh and hold out my hand for the Peacekeeper to stab with a needle. Hayden does the same, making a face at me as he's jabbed. I allow a small smile.

We're walking to our sections. "Look at your mom," Hayden whispers, "she looks like she's about to have a conniption."

"Hayden, my mom is made of conniptions." But he's right, I can see her onstage and she's focused on me, glaring at me like she just saw me commit murder. Well then, guess who's in trouble.

The escort pulls out a name from the girls' reaping bowl. "NOALEE TYLER!"

Just my luck. My parents leap up from their chairs in astonishment as the district falls to gossip.

"Noalee Tyler? The Mayor's daughter?"

"The one who convinced her parents to give her more freedom?"

"Not her!"

I bite my lip to keep the anger and shock and fear from escaping and I can feel the sting of tears behind my eyes. I will not be seen crying. I will not be seen crying. It's hard, so hard, to walk up to the stage, but I do it. Because I am strong and I will not be seen crying. My parents are right behind me, both of them aghast (and Mom horrified that I'm not wearing a dress), but I do not acknowledge them.

We've gotten a new escort, after that drug addict from last year I'm thankful, and the effeminate young man brightly shakes my hand before asking for volunteers- none, of course, nobody's insane like last year's Lucia Greene- and then turning to the boys' reaping bowl. I face the audience and scan the crowd for my friends. Hayden stands agape at the back of the crowd. Everyone is thinking it- I'm dead. Fourteen, petite, and the Mayor's daughter. It's a wonder I even survive with my friends on the streets. How could I possibly win the Hunger Games?

If Chandler Mathews could make it to the top seven last year- he died by muttation, too- I can win the Games. I have to. And I refuse to be seen crying.

DISTRICT SIX MALE: KALEN RAM

Forget good and evil. Forget them. What do they matter? Are you good or are you evil? Can you be one or the other? Isn't everyone 'both'? Just forget good and evil. They aren't even close to accurate. You can be corrupt, you can be kind, you can be a sleazy cheater like my father, but good and evil are vague. There are some who say my father is good, there are some who say he is evil. But I can say, and people wouldn't argue with me, that he's lazy and a cheat.

I choose to measure people by their work instead. You work hard, you try your best, you don't slack off and take the easy way out, then you're worth something. See? Simple. If you're diligent you earn respect and get profit. I don't care what it is you're working hard on- the ones who strive are the ones who should come out on top, whether they flaunt their success or not. I hide mine, because if the world knew I'd be thrown in jail. I never said honesty was a factor in this. Just hard work.

If you're lazy, you're corrupt. You get used to having things handed to you on a silver platter and you don't try for anything. There's no work and no success to be earned. There's no reward. The people like that- the Capitol, the rich- don't deserve my respect. In fact, they deserve my hatred. It's because of them the hardworking people are shoved to the back of the line and made poor. The least I can do is _work hard _to give them something extra, even the playing field a little bit. But only the hardworking. If someone sits there feeling sorry for their poor self, they're just as lazy as the rich and don't get anything.

Once upon a time I was compared to a thief called Robin Hood. I'd rather stick with Kalen, thanks. People don't need to know what I'm up to, and so far everyone knows but there's no good proof so I go around freely. Being a 'Robin Hood' is like giving a confession. Besides, Robin Hood helped the weak, and why? The weak need to stand up for themselves. I'm here for myself.

They think they could catch me. I'm too careful for them. If there was one thing that my dad taught me, it was how to look after myself.

Since he left me to live alone when he got a job in the Capitol, it's been a good thing. With my work, I made the money that he left- that I was only supposed to stretch over a few months- last for at least triple that. Hard work takes you far.

Although it could have lasted longer if some Peacekeepers didn't require such hefty bribes. Ugh.

I'm strolling alongside the polluted river just outside of town, a buffeting wind apparently trying to pull out my short red hair, when I'm accosted by a boy a year younger than me. "James," I greet my friend. He smiles wickedly and holds up a deck of playing cards- my cards. He's pickpocketed me as salutations. Kleptomaniac much? I roll my eyes and snatch back the cards.

"So, what's the plan today?" James says, bubbling over with excitement.

"Nothing. We go to the Reaping ceremony and then go home and lie low."

He deflates.

"It's too dangerous today, boy. There was that gang fight last night and the Peacekeepers are on edge after they had to quell it. And it's the reaping. There are always extra officials. We won't risk it today, we're not stupid."

"Unless we are," James jokes. I crack a smile.

"If we're stupid then this district is populated by morons and cavemen. C'mon, we've got to be normal today." James hesitates before he nods but then we're off to the town square, early but no so early as to stand out. The Peacekeeper with the needle watches us suspiciously as we sign in but there's nothing the man can do so we pass with no consequences. I smirk at James as we pass. Pissing off the Capitol officials is way too much fun.

I find myself a spot in the sixteens section, standing close to the edge to continue conversing with James, who has taken residence in the fifteens. The boys around us don't speak to us- the only acknowledgement of our presence is a general step away, like we'll rob them blind while we're just standing here.

They all suspect something, but they cannot prove anything. It's great. Everyone should be on edge like me, it makes you sharp.

Then again, if everyone was alert my life wouldn't be half as fun.

Slowly the rest of the sections fill up, but there's still an aura of suspicion around James and me; still no one wants to come near us although some are forced to by lack of space. I don't even mind, who has time to care what other people think?

Mayor Adrian Tyler steps forward to the microphone and clears his throat. James, determined to follow my lead and act normal, actually pays attention, leaving me with nothing better to do.

"…Panem rose from the ravaged land, a shining Capitol and twelve outlying districts. In the aftermath of rebellion, the Hunger Games were put in place as a reminder of the sacrifice the country had made. Twelve young men and twelve young women were sent as tributes for the first Hunger Games, a battle for survival to remind the districts of what had been done to save the country. The victors would receive great honors for their districts…" okay, this is old already. It's like listening to a teacher in school. And I don't exactly go to school anymore. Boring.

Mayor Tyler finishes and retreats to sit beside his wife, allowing the escort to step up. He's a new escort, a young man dressed in at least seven clashing floral prints and with flowers braided into his excessively long light blue hair. Yikes. My dad had said something about last year's escort overdosing on drugs, so no big surprise with the fact that we have a new escort. But still- surprise.

"Hello, District Six!" he chirps brightly. _Chirps._ How is this thing a man? Yet, his voice and face are decidedly masculine… somehow… "How are you lovely folks doing today?" I hate him already. He doesn't get a single reply, which makes me smile, but it doesn't faze him at all. Unfortunately. "I'm your new escort, Varro Catiline, and it's time to select your tributes for the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games!"

There's a huge collective eye roll at this. I contribute.

"Let's go traditional and select our ladies first, shall we?" Varro suggests. _Let's just not choose anyone and say we did, all right?_ But of course there's not actually a choice to be made because all this idiot is doing is choosing which two kids to die- let's face it, we don't have a chance. I watch Varro as he prances over to the girls' reaping bowl and daintily- daintily- pull out a name. "NOALEE TYLER!"

Well, that's unlucky. Noalee is one of the few girls in the district I actually respect. Her dad is the Mayor- too bad for him I suppose- but Noalee had her own personal little rebellion and gained freedom from that. She made her own way in the world.

The girl, short with choppy dark hair and freckles, marches up to the stage with her jaw clenched and fingers nervously tapping against her ripped jeans. She wasn't in her section- in fact she had just walked from the registration area with a boy. Hayden Ellis- James knows him from the little thief circles.

Noalee shakes hands quickly with Varro and turns to the crowd, staring vacantly out over everyone's heads. She's trying not to focus on the events, I can tell. She does a good job of hiding her emotions but everyone can tell that she's trying to conceal them. I tense up as Varro goes for another name, this time from the boys' reaping bowl so I actually have to worry.

"KALEN RAM!"

You know what? Of course it is. I make it onstage without breaking down, but I refuse to touch the escort. Varro Catiline is the foulest person here. Noalee and I shake hands, and I see an almost broken look in her eyes as I look down at the much shorter girl.

She made it so far, and these stupid Capitol sacrifices will strip her of everything she gained, in a week. Not to mention me. I've done so much, there's so much to still do, so much to still prove and make happen and so much work to be done. I will not, cannot let the Hunger Games take that away.

Of course, if they do, I'll be dead so it won't exactly matter.

Varro leads the way into the Justice Building, but Noalee's parents cling to her as she follows behind, leaving me totally unwatched and unguarded. I'd have thought they would keep a closer eye on a suspected criminal. Silly me, the people in charge are much too lazy for that.

Out of nowhere I have a bit of an itching palm, and I can see a fat coin purse sitting wide open in Varro's hideous floral jacket pocket. It's a simple maneuver to slip my hand into the purse and pull out a shiny gold coin. A token. My token.

The life of a thief, no?

I sit patiently (well, sort of patiently) in the visiting room while James is on his way to the Justice Building. It doesn't take long, but of course the overwhelming swirl of thoughts in my head expands the time frame to 'forever'.

_I wonder what it's like to die? Painful. Final._

_ Was it rigged? I don't know._

_ Who will I be fighting? People stronger than me. People who have trained- Careers is the name for them now. Smart people. Young people._

_ What will happen when I kill? Someone else will die. What will happen to me when I kill? I don't know._

_ Why should I even bother playing their game? What would stop me from just staying true to myself and jumping off the plates?_

"Kalen, you'd better come back home." I jump, thinking James has entered the room, but I have started thinking aloud. I shake my head and lean back against the overstuffed chair. The thoughts dissipate.

"Kalen, you'd better come back home," James is the speaker this time.

"Of course I'll come back. What, you think I'm stupid enough to die?"

"Be serious."

"I am wild!"

"Kalen. You'll be fighting people older, stronger, tougher, smarter than you. Wise up now and find your opportunity. That's what you've taught me, is find the right moment. To work hard and never stop. It's your turn, okay man?"

I lay a hand on James's shoulder, staring him right in the eyes. "I understand. Now what? You plan to talk strategy with me?"

"Kalen, sometimes you're so sarcastic that you can't process anything else."

"That's sort of the point right now, James. I'd rather not get kicked in the teeth with the fact that I have to go fight to the death."

"Congratulations, and I hope you remember something of what I'm saying to you when this agitated energy wears off."

"Try not to get kicked in the teeth while I'm gone, okay, James? Keep working hard. Just because I'm gone doesn't mean you can slack off. Actually, that makes me sound like my dad. Never mind." The younger boy sullenly rolls his eyes and nods.

"And you try not to die. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

**Tell me what you thought! :)**

**Three reapings left: Districts 1, 9, and 11!**


	11. District One Reapings

**Sorry it's been so long, everyone. :/ Writer's block. I'm sorry. **

**This chapter is dedicated to Teddy, because it's District One and it took so long. :)**

**Female Desire Blanchard submitted by (who else) Cashmere67 and male Ainsley Jett submitted by ImmyRose.**

**Cameo appearances: Kemper Daft by KnockingBells and Grimm Heartfila by You may call me Tac Nayn. :)**

* * *

DISTRICT ONE FEMALE: DESIRE BLANCHARD

"Ow!" I yelp and jerk the curling iron away from my head. After years of using it, I shouldn't burn myself, but sometimes I just get caught up in my own thoughts and, well, lose focus. Gingerly patting my neck, where the iron touched my skin, I giggle. Back to work I go. I try my best to concentrate on my appearance now, not on the fact that today is the biggest day of my life.

I wrap a lock of my shoulder-length blonde hair around the iron and wait for a moment before releasing it. As it falls back against my neck in a perfect golden curl, I smile. Good hair days always make me happy. And today even more people than normal will be watching me.

I finish my hair and unplug the curling iron, turning instead to my face. Foundation, mascara, a little bit of blush. My normal routine. As a last thought, however, I add some eye shadow. It will be to my benefit if I look even better than normal today. Then I stand back and look myself over in the mirror- perfect. My gray eyes are expertly highlighted by the makeup around them and my skin practically glows. I wear more makeup than most of the other girls, but I don't look like a hooker or anything. I'd kill myself if I did. No, I just look beautiful. Better than anyone else in the district, that's for sure! I mean, I'm the most beautiful girl already, but why settle for only a little bit prettier?

The new high heeled shoes I just got from the latest Capitol trend magazine would go perfectly with my outfit, but today is not the day to wear cutesy shoes. I have something I need to do and for this once I will make do with the second best- the new flats that I got from the same fashion line.

I strut to the kitchen where Mother and Father are eating breakfast.

"Desire, how are you today, darling?" Mother stands and greets me with a gentle hug. She knows how hard it is to perfect your appearance in the mornings, so she's careful not to mess anything up. I love her so much. She's the one who taught me the importance of fashion and looking good to begin with.

"I'm fine," I reply, smiling.

"You look stunning. Keeping up with the latest fashions as always, that's my girl!" Mother winks at me and we laugh together for a moment.

"I learned from the best!" I give her a kiss on the cheek and take my place at the table. However, I take no food. Eating would ruin my image, and I can't have that. I've built up such a reputation, how terrible would it be if weight gain ruined it? I'd rather starve than lose my flawless appearance. My parents do not press me to eat breakfast. Instead, we can hold a decent conversation. "Good morning, Father!" I chirp.

"A good morning it is, sweetheart." He smiles warmly at me and pats my hand. "Are you excited?"

"It's my last Reaping ceremony, of course I am!"

"Do you know who plans to volunteer?"

I bite my lip and think for a moment. "Well, Heliotrope."

Mother rolls her eyes. "Ugh, that name. What parents decide to name a promising girl like her 'Heliotrope'? It astounds me. We gave you a good name, Desire."

I giggle a little before continuing. "I think Venus Magliore is going to try for it, but that girl has no chance. She's only fifteen. Actually, nobody else has a chance."

"And for the boys?" Father prompts.

"Hmm… Jacquard Feuilly, he's one of the strongest. Tarquin Aruns. I think Grimm Heartfila has the best chance, though. He's always at the Training Center. Kemper Daft has been bragging about volunteering, but he's full of himself." I don't mention that Kemper has been trying to flirt with me for two weeks now. He thinks he's so special, talking to a pretty girl two years older than himself. Pfft. I love gossiping about it with Heliotrope, though.

"Sounds like District One will be well off this year," Father says jovially, "Our tributes won't end up killed by a boy from _Twelve_."

"Or stabbed in the back by a psychopath," Mother reminds us of Athena Monroe, the girl we had invested so much hope in. Ugh. She was too kind.

"Well, I have to go find Heliotrope now," I say, pushing my chair back from the table and smoothing out the front of my dress.

"We'll see you later, Desire!" Mother comes over to me and rearranges a few pieces of my hair before allowing me to leave.

"I love you!" I call before shutting the door behind me and heading to the Training Center. My best friend insisted on getting one last hour in before trying to volunteer today. Of course, it'll only make her tired, and that'll let me take the spot. I may have only trained for a few years, but at least I've learned a lot. I can win, and besides being strong isn't the only factor. The Games are basically pageants with blood, and I'm the prettiest girl in the district _known_ for beauty.

I strut into the Training Center, looking for my friend. "Desire! What are you doing here?" one of the trainers shouts at me.

They don't like me because they think I'm too frail to be here and I never listen when they tell me to find somewhere else to go. But I don't care. Turning to face the man, I put my hands on my hips and smirk. "I'm looking for Heliotrope. Don't worry, I won't bother with this silly training today. I can't get this outfit sweaty. Duh." I sound ridiculous, even to myself, but it works and the trainer points me to the swords. _That's where I was going to go anyway, moron. _

"Desire, great timing, I was just cleaning up!" Heliotrope spots me before I get close to her and grins, "I am so ready for this." The dark-haired girl is brimming with excitement and I can't help myself- I'm happy for her until I remind myself that I will be the one onstage in less than an hour.

"Let's go then!" I grin. Heliotrope puts away her weapon and goes to get her things from the locker room. When she comes back out she's washed her face and pulled on a blouse and skirt over her training tanktop and shorts. She plans to volunteer in that? At least it's better than the Center uniform.

"Today's the day! I've been waiting for this since I was ten, I can hardly believe it! And it'll be such an honor…" Heliotrope is already gushing. I almost feel bad about planning to volunteer myself, but I know that I can do it. Besides, I'm the best here. Heliotrope is all about training, but I see the other aspects of the Games and the Capitol. I see the beauty of it all.

We reach the Justice Building quickly, since it's only a block from the training center, and step in line to reg

"Do you see that girl? She hasn't even tried to hide her hideous wart!" I whisper to Heliotrope, poking her in the side and gesturing to a younger girl, maybe fourteen, who stands a few spots ahead of us in line.

"And look at this boy on the other side of me, he won't stop gaping at you!" my friend giggles. I flick my eyes over and sure enough the boy- he's about our age, maybe a year younger- is staring. I wink and the boy turns away, red as a tomato.

I flip my golden curls over my shoulder. "Well, I'm just living up to my name!" I'm only half-joking.

The line moves quickly and soon we're getting our fingers pricked. I wince a little but hide it well enough that no one notices. Heliotrope practically drags me to the eighteens section; the front of the section is filled.

"Hey, will you two move?" I ask two of the girls standing where Heliotrope and I could be.

"No, Blanchard, we won't," one of them, Euphrasie Winter, snaps back. I smirk and lean in close to her.

"If you don't move, I will find your boyfriend and tell him that you slept with Amory Barel." Euphrasie gapes for a moment but then drags her friend back a few steps. She may be careful about keeping her own secrets, but Amory? He talks too much. Heliotrope and I take the newly open spots.

Our Mayor soon begins the Treaty of Treason, a speech that Heliotrope and I have learned by heart and even now Heliotrope mouths the words. I fidget eagerly while the escort comes up and speaks. We still have Soli, a younger woman who's very trendy. She's got the same gold patterns around her eyes, but she's wearing the latest fashions and her warm color palette looks very elegant.

"And now to meet this year's tributes, District One!" She waltzes to the pink-tinted reaping bowl and plucks out a name. "For the ladies: Ophelia Valier!"

Ophelia, a scowling fifteen-year-old, shuffles up to the stage. She looks like she woke up five minutes ago. "Any volunteers?" Soli asks, knowing full well that the answer is yes.

Heliotrope's downfall is her routineness. "I VOLUNTEER!" she shouts, slowing down her initial charge. The habit is present in almost all of the female volunteers, the perfect little soldiers they pretend to be. Only Venus Magliore and I run without speaking first, and I'm faster than the little brat.

I'm onstage just a step ahead of my best friend. Soli hurries over and hands me the microphone before Heliotrope can get her hands on me. "I'm Desire Blanchard," is all I say, although I flash a dazzling smile at the crowd and blow a kiss to one of the cameras.

To desire is to want something passionately. And that's what people think of me- they desire me. Boys want me, girls… they want to be me or kill me, and the Capitol will want me to win the Hunger Games, because I am the best. See, this adoration is possible because I hardly eat. If I were fat, nobody would want me for anything and I would never have gotten this popular.

A boy's name is called. "Ainsley Jett!" The boy who comes up is dark skinned, he looks strong. He trains, but he never says much. I barely know that he exists.

"Don't bother volunteering, I will be going," he announces, showing no emotion. A cry comes up from the boys' section but Ainsley is announced as tribute. I smile at him and shake his hand before we go into the Justice Building.

My parents are the first to arrive, and I'm glad to see them. Now I don't care as much if the hugs mess up my clothes- I won't see my parents for a while, and of course there is the possibility that I could die.

We talk for a few minutes- not desperate or even sad, but just sharing memories. The time I convinced the sweet-shop owner to give me a piece of chocolate. When I started training. The first time I brought a boy home for dinner. I love it all, the memories and my lovely parents supporting me.

"I promise, I'll come back."

"Dear, just remember what's important," Mother says, sliding a diamond-encrusted bangle off her wrist and handing it to me. A token. I smile, hug her one last time, and adjust the bracelet around my wrist. Then my parents leave.

I don't really want to leave them. I will miss Mother and Father more than anyone else. But… volunteering was the right thing to do, I'm sure. And I will return home.

I am hoping that I will have no other visitors, but I'm out of luck. My best friend storms into the room. "What were you even thinking?" Heliotrope snarls, "This was my year. I have been training since I was ten! You started at sixteen; I was there for your first day! Why did you volunteer, you stuck-up liar? Why even bother call me your friend if you planned to betray me like that? I don't want to hear why you volunteered, Desire Blanchard. I don't care. You never considered me when you decided to do this. You never thought about what would happen to me. This was the most important thing I would ever do. And you've ruined it. I have nothing now! Nothing!"

I open my mouth to protest, but Heliotrope cuts me off. "I hope you die, Desire. I hope you die a slow death." She gets right in my face. "And if by some fluke you make it home, I will murder you. I swear, I will kill you myself if you ever come back."

I feel terrible as she turns and leaves without any hesitation.

DISTRICT ONE MALE: AINSLEY JETT

I am reading a book on shelter construction from the small library at the training center. It's one of the few 'survival skills' guides in the selection- trainees want to learn how to kill, not how to track and find edible plants. Weapons are useful as well but a person cannot live on killing. And if they could- oh, the irony.

My concentration is interrupted by a fight. Skirmishes aren't exactly uncommon here, but after eight years of training I can tune them out most of the time. But this one is simply too loud. I snap the book closed and go to watch. Even if common, fights are interesting to observe.

It's Grimm and Kemper. Oh, great. They've been tense for weeks now; I have been waiting for them to explode. At last everyone can relax.

It's not even a physical fight. They're screaming at each other. Grimm is brandishing a fist, but that's it. They both plan to volunteer; it's no wonder they refuse to attack each other. They don't want to get hurt. I cross my arms over my chest and watch them.

"I'M OLD ENOUGH TO VOLUNTEER! I'M STRONG! YOU WATCH ME, I'LL GO AS TRIBUTE THIS YEAR!" That's Kemper Daft, hotheaded and brash like always. He has to stand on tiptoes to be at eye level with Grimm.

Still, Grimm Heartfila looms over him, scowling. "Not on my watch, little boy. You're sixteen, save your training for when you're older. This is my year and you won't be taking a place on that stage. I swear you won't."

"You think I'm weak. All of you do! I'll prove myself! I will, I'll go to the Games and win them!"

"That's exactly what Adrian Rain said last year, kid. What happened to that idiot will happen to you, do you hear? I'm stronger than you- than anyone else here- and I can win. I am volunteering and that's the end of it, boy!" Grimm ends his sentence with a snarl. I cringe inwardly.

"Look at them go at it," a voice comes from behind me and I whirl around. I hate people sneaking up on me. They're already untrustworthy; it scares me to know that someone could be sneaking up on me at any time.

It's Jacquard Feuilly behind me, one of the more decent guys here. Still I don't let my guard down. "Hey, Jack."

"This is great, both of them fighting over who's gonna volunteer."

"Grimm will beat Kemper, that's a given."

"I might be able to beat Grimm, though," Jack thinks aloud, but there's something mischievous in his eyes. "I have plans to volunteer this year, it's my last too and I'm just as strong as he is." I nod thoughtfully. Yeah, Jack has a shot. "What about you, Ainsley? Gonna try and run? You're strong- and smarter than most of the guys. I see you reading all the time, and you're always watching and learning."

I blanch. Jack's always been nice enough, but he knows things about me that I don't display. I don't try and stand out here. And yet, he's seen my skills. Sure I'm good, if I were a failure I would be noticed and tormented. But to most I'm average. And I don't like that Jack's gotten close enough to me to think differently.

Carefully keeping my countenance blank, I reply, "I'm not sure yet. It'd be good to volunteer, for the District's benefit and of course the power it gives, but I haven't decided." Jack seems happy that I'm not dead set on volunteering- less competition for him that way- but also confused, like he's not sure why I wouldn't be chomping at the bit.

"All right. Well, see you later- from the steps of the Justice Building!" Jack pounds me on the back before leaving.

I'm quickly bored with Grimm and Kemper's argument. They're almost to blows but that wouldn't be too exciting- Kemper would be laid out in a matter of seconds, really. So I retreat to the bookshelf, put away the book, and check out of the training center. I can hear a scuffle now, one of the boys must have lunged.

I'm barely half a block from the training center when I'm accosted by Casey. The girl just can't take the hint, can she? Nobody likes her, she follows people around and talks their ears off. And currently she's stalking me. I consider going home to get away from her, but my parents will probably be fighting again and I can't bring myself to care that much about seeing them that I actually want to go home.

"Hey, Ainsley!" Casey chirps, "How are you? I hope you're better than me, last night I found out that the boy I like has a girlfriend and now I'm devastated and I couldn't stop thinking about him."

"I'm fine." Casey makes me nervous. I can't ever tell what she's trying to accomplish. What does she want to know about me that makes her follow me around everywhere? What does she already know about me? And I don't care about her life problems, although she always chatters on about them.

"It's your last reaping, are you going to volunteer? I knew someone who volunteered a few years back, I was only nine when they died in the Games. I think it's cool though, I mean they get to see a lot of the country and it's very brave."

"I don't know if I will volunteer. Just leave me alone, Casey." The girl actually drops back a few steps, too pointedly charmed that I actually know her name to be hurt that I just want her to disappear. I get a few moments of silence before she brushes off my rejection.

"So how was training this morning? I've never trained, I don't know which center I could go to."

"It was fine."

"Did anything interesting happen?" She's milking me for stories now, why can she not just disappear? I don't like talking to her, I don't like people getting to know me, I don't care about her, I don't want to reply. "I said, did anything interesting happen?"

"There was a fight." Casey nods, motioning for me to continue. "About who would volunteer." We're almost at the registration point now, maybe Casey can find someone else to stalk.

"So who won?" she prompts.

"I don't know. Shut up and leave me alone." With that, I muscle my way to the middle of the group of kids waiting to check in, leaving Casey at the back of the crowd.

I am unnoticed as I wait in line. I'm not extremely muscular or tall, and I don't socialize with others. They all just pass me by. Fine with me, it works.

"Next," the Peacekeeper on registration duty calls. I step up and offer her my hand; she takes me blood and I don't react to the pinprick at all. A short walk to the area in front of the Justice Building and then I stand in the cordoned section, waiting. I can wait.

Slowly the area fills with other young men, most of them talking and joking about girls or the Games. As long as none of them are talking about me I'm fine.

"Welcome, citizens of District One!" our mayor steps up for the beginning of the reaping ceremony. "Today we will select two brave young people for the honor of competing in the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games, but first- the Treaty of Treason…" I zone out pretty quickly, there's nothing new or important here.

My mind keeps turning to the thought of volunteering.

It could be good for the district. And if I won I would be powerful, I could be practically idolized. I'm strong, and smarter than the vast majority of the buffoons who plan to volunteer.

The Capitol would want to know everything about me…

I could always lie.

But the knowing itself isn't such a big deal. I don't want people really getting close to me- because the closer people are to you, the more it hurts when they, inevitably, betray you.

The power of the Games, though, is huge. Being a victor would give me _power._ And the wealth, the honor, the fame certainly couldn't hurt.

I've been training for the better part of a decade. I don't have perfect skills with every weapon ever but I'm skilled nonetheless. And I know what the other trainees don't- survival skills.

I will decide who I am when the escort asks for volunteers.

The same woman as always, Soli steps up as escort and begins the actual reaping. "And now it's time to meet this year's tributes, District One! For the ladies: Ophelia Valier!" Some girl comes up but everyone knows there will be volunteers. Sure enough, there's a chorus of them shouting out when Soli asks, but one makes it onstage long before any of the others. Maybe not long before, but it's obvious that she's won.

It's Desire Blanchard, and the entire district knows it before she announces herself. There's a lot of confusion, though, and I almost laugh at the quasi-panic of the other girls. Nobody knew Desire was going to volunteer. Nobody thought she would be able to, actually. The girl is classically beautiful- blonde, tall, thin- but she doesn't look strong or fast. I shrug it off. She doesn't matter, pretty or not.

"Now that we have our lovely female tribute, let's get her a district partner!" Soli cheers. She can barely contain her excitement as she goes to the other bowl and picks out a name. "Ainsley Jett!"

Well. All right then.

It's not an issue for me to step forth and move up to the stage. There's no worry or sudden realization or petrifying fear. I'm strong, and there could be a volunteer.

There doesn't have to be.

Do I want to go to the Games? I could if I wanted to. This is a much easier way than fighting for the spot with Grimm and Jack.

I could let one of them go in my stead, and never have to worry about dying in the Games.

I could win the Games, and have everything I could ever wish for.

So I stand with Soli and Desire on the steps of the Justice Building and, before Soli can form another sentence, I take the microphone from her. "Don't bother volunteering, I will be going."

Kemper whines louder than any of the other boys, and for a second I hope he gets punched by someone, anyone. Grimm glares up with me, barely able to control his anger. Jack's rage is clearly visible as well. There are plenty of other boys, too, who look like they want to see me dead, but it's not like any of them would have made it up here before Grimm.

So it goes. I don't care about any of them. I'm the only person that matters to me.

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**Yes, you lovely people, here is another opportunity to _tell me what you thought!_**

**Also a friendly reminder that I am more likely to keep your tribute alive if I know you are keeping up with the story :)**


	12. District Nine Reapings

**Second to last reaping! Welcome to District Nine XD Our girl Rhain Miller is from Anime'sPrincess and our boy Knox Blake is from Foxface5 :) Hope you enjoy this chapter, everyone! R&R**

**Thank you for all reviews thus far. :)**

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DISTRICT NINE MALE: KNOX BLAKE

"It was raining," my grandma begins, "and the boy had to make his way home under the dark clouds and cold, heavy rain. He did not want to, but he was brave and so through the rain he walked. He was soaked almost immediately, and his dark hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck. His glasses were spattered with drops of water, and he squinted against the sheets of rain. As he walked, he tried to scrunch himself down to occupy the smallest space possible, to escape the freezing rain.

"There was a sudden noise! Alarmed, the boy turned, looking for the source, and saw a feral dog dash into an alley. He continued walking, but soon a scream echoing from the same place stopped him dead in his tracks. He ran to the alley and saw a girl, her back pressed against the wall, surrounded by the dogs. He wanted to run, to get away from the snarling, foul beasts, but he simply could not leave the girl while she was in danger.

"He straightened up despite the rain, adjusted those glasses he wore, and with a courageous glint in his gray-green eyes, spoke to the dogs. "Leave her alone!" he commanded, stretching a hand out towards the animals. The dogs, suddenly afraid, listened and whimpered. They were torn between obeying this boy who could speak to them, and finishing what they had started."

Setting down my whittling knife and half-finished carving, I interrupt Grandma's story. "That's not realistic, Grandma, humans can't speak to dogs! _I _can't speak to dogs!"

The wizened old lady winks at me and holds up a finger. "Knox, honey, this is a story. Anything can happen. Now listen, boy, let me finish!" I resume my whittling and let Grandma continue. "The leader of the pack growled, "It's only a boy, he does not command us!" But this only-a-boy would not take 'no' for an answer. He walked right up to the leader of the dogs and set a firm hand on the top of the beast's snout. The dog, forced into such a position of submission, turned tail and fled, taking his pack with him. The boy was then a hero. He turned to the girl, who smiled at her helper."

"Grandma…"

I don't even get a reply this time. "Even though the girl is taller than the boy, older than him, she hugs him hard and kisses him. "Thank you so much!" she cries, "You've saved me! How can I ever repay you?" They walk out of the alley holding hands."

"Gran, since when do I get a girl?"

"Since when is the story about you, Knox? The boy doesn't have a name yet."

"You always make me the main character!" I grin, "Besides, he looks like me, you described him just like me!"

Grandma tweaks my nose. "Of course it's you. But this is a story, why wouldn't you get the girl? Don't all the modern heroes get the ladies?"

"Because that's awkward and at least the talking to animals bit is cool. This doesn't work at all," I complain.

"Well would you rather get a boy?" She smiles wickedly.

"Grandmaaa, that's still awkward. And no."

"Fine then, you tell the ending, Knox." Grandma leans back in her chair, listening intently.

"The boy follows the girl out of the alleyway. "What can I ever do to repay you?" she asks. The boy replies that, if she wants, they can be friends. She agrees and they part ways. They boy who can talk to animals goes home to his mother and grandma and lives happily ever after. The end."

Grandma claps. "Now how about setting it up for a part two?"

"Um… and then the grain fields nearby catch on fire. Even the rain can't stop dragon fire."

Grandma raises an eyebrow. "Dragons? Doesn't that seem unrealistic to you, Knox?" she asks wryly.

"It's a story, anything can happen!" We both laugh.

My mother's voice breaks into the conversation. "Come on you two, we have to leave for the reaping in ten minutes!" Grandma leaves to finish getting ready and to tidy up the house a little, but I've already done my morning chores and gotten ready to go, so I sit on the floor and keep on carving.

I'm working with a small piece of wood, whittling out a simple vine pattern. When it's finally finished I'll most likely give it to Mom, I do end up giving a lot of my carvings to her. Who else would I give them to? Grandma prefers getting my stories. I only see Father once or twice a year, he doesn't exactly like me, although since I look so much like him with my coppery skin and dark hair he feels obliged to see 'how I'm turning out'. He's married to a woman who's not my mother and he has other children to care about. There isn't anyone else.

"Come on, sweetheart, time to go!" Mom calls. I jump up, leaving my whittling knife and carving on the floor, and dash out the door. "Knox, you've got wood shavings on your clothes again!" she cries, brushing at my light green shirt and khaki pants until they're clean again.

"Thanks, Mom," I say, giving her a quick hug. Then we're off. It's a long walk to the main town, since after I was born and Father refused to marry Mom we moved in with Grandma in her little cottage near the edge of the grain fields. In fact, the sun has barely risen when we start our trip. Reaping Day is a day trip for us.

I sometimes think older people get tired fast, but every time I think that, Grandma comes along and proves me wrong. She talks more than Mom and I combined on the way to the big city and walks ahead of us for most of the trip.

"In my day, the longest walk I ever took was a hike in the mountains when I was young- the mountains where District Twelve is now, honey, they used to be called the Appalachian Mountains. Once my friends and I walked a trail- the Appalachian Trail- and it took us months!" she laughs, "Imagine that, a walk that takes half a year. You can't do that now, Knox, and I'm sorry for you because of it. Everything was more interesting without District borders."

"I don't know, a hike that long doesn't sound like much fun," I say. Grandma and Mom laugh, but I'm serious. I hate walking all the way to the town for a terrible thing like the Reaping ceremony. It's the scariest thing in the world. And the four or five times I've done it- I've only been eligible once before but Mom decided I was old enough to come years back- I've been utterly exhausted by the time we got back home.

By the time we reach the city, the sun has risen much higher in the sky. I feel like I've barely awoken, but walking through the streets of the main town wakes me up quickly. Everything's huge here, the buildings and houses and even the old ruined places from before the rebellion seventeen years ago (that nobody's gotten around to fixing, apparently) dwarf our house and the little community where my school is. This place is the setting of a lot of Grandma's stories.

"There's the square," Mom says. She's getting anxious. I bite my lip as I watch her. She's probably more nervous about reapings than I am- not only could she lose her kid, but she usually runs into Father at the ceremony and that brings back too many memories for her.

"Today will not be a good day," Grandma mutters, fiddling with the tassels on her black shawl. The words send little chills down my spine.

"Well, I've got to go check in. See you later!" I hug both of the women and turn to the registration line.

"Love you, Knox!" Mom calls.

"Love you too!" I reply and then step into the line.

I'm basically ignored. It's fine with me, it's not like I know these people (and if I did recognize the kids here I don't know what I would say). I like people, but mostly just to watch. Talking to them… nope. Sure, having a legitimate conversation would be fun, but I like watching people too. It's easier, and just as interesting. Sometimes. And I don't have to come up with things to say.

The line moves quickly and soon I'm holding out my hand to a Peacekeeper. She's young, her eyes aren't hardened from experience yet; she even smiles grimly at me as she pricks my finger. "Have a nice day, sir," I pipe up as I pass her. I figure everyone needs something happy. Being a Peacekeeper may be nicer than starving but you're still a slave to the people in charge. Even Capitol citizens are like sheep. They don't have anything to do but follow orders and eat a lot of food.

I take my place and wait patiently for the ceremony to start. Glancing around at the other sections, I see a few kids I recognize, including Carla in the girls' area. She sits next to me in math class and sometimes she talks to me. She's a good person.

The Mayor steps up and gives the Treaty of Treason, but I'm looking for my mother and grandmother in the crowd and so I don't pay very close attention. By the time he steps back to his seat, however, I've located them in the front of the crowd and caught their attention to let them know where I am.

And it would be very hard to _not_ pay attention to our escort. Roxana Rellinger is back for a fourth year of taking District Nine to the Games, and everyone cringes as she begins to speak. She's like a butterfly on steroids, the way she squeaks and changes up her inflections and talks so fast you can barely separate the words in your head.

"Our ladies first," she squeals, flipping her crimson curls over one shoulder and marching over to one of the reaping bowls, "I remember last year, we had Sarracenia Trallon as our female tribute! This year, we have… Rhain Miller! Rhain, come on up, dear!"

There's an ear-piercing scream from a girl, presumably Rhain, and I flinch as it hits my ears. A flurry of movement in the fifteens, and a tall girl with silvery hair breaks away and makes a run for the crowd. She's lunging for an older girl who's holding a small child, screaming and crying all the while, but the Peacekeepers were standing nearby and they grab hold of her before she can disappear into the throng. The people murmur sadly; they don't want to see this girl die.

The Peacekeepers drag her up to the stage and dump her unceremoniously beside Roxana. Rhain manages to stand up on her own, wavering for a second before she dashes forward yet again. The Peacekeepers grab her arms, and at a motion from Roxana they haul her into the Justice Building ahead of schedule.

"Wasn't that eventful? Now, let's see who will be going with Rhain to the Capitol!" Roxana gushes. She selects a name and pauses before she opens it. "Last year, Alec Ryans was our male tribute! I wonder who it will be this time?" She opens the slip of paper. "Knox Blake, where are you, dear? Knox Blake!"

Everything falls to pieces. The world spins, but I'm not granted the luxury of fainting and getting a pass on going up to the stage. I slump to my knees and cry out in fear. There's a scream from the crowd as well- Mom. I'm breathing so hard, so quickly that colorful spots dance before my eyes and I'm getting dizzy.

I've never been this afraid before.

DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: RHAIN MILLER

I remember.

I remember swimming in the river and splashing and having fun with my friends.

_"Come play with us, Winnow!" I shout, flinging a shower of water droplets up from the chilly river. The other girl shakes her head, laughing. "Come on, your name is so close to Minnow you must love the water!"_

_ "Nope, sorry, Rhain!" Winnow giggles. "Besides, I have to get home soon and my parents will never forgive me if I show up for their stupid dinner party soaking wet!"_

_ "Guess what, Winnow?" I call, keeping the girl's attention on me. I can't let her see Robin creeping up behind her._

_ "What?"_

_ "WE DON'T CARE AND YOU DON'T EITHER!" shouts Robin from behind Winnow, pushing her forward. She shrieks and stumbles forward, almost toppling into the water. However, she catches herself at the last second and windmills her arms as she teeters on the bank. At last, she rocks back and steadies herself on solid ground. _

_ "Robin!" she shrieks._

_ Robin and I laugh._

I remember.

I remember the comfort of middle class and not going hungry and getting new clothes.

_"Rhain, you are not going out in those clothes!" Mother calls out from the living room as I'm about to leave the house._

_ "Mother, come on, they're fine!"_

_ "Shorts that short are not all right, young lady!"_

_ "Let her go, Clarissa," Father steps in, "She'll be fine, she's responsible. And Jensen is a nice boy, he'll take care of her. It's the girl's first real date, honey, let her go."_

_ "Be back by eight!" Mother relents, but not without a final rule for me to follow._

_ "Will do!" I call back to her, smiling._

I remember.

I remember the young Peacekeeper who kept flirting with me, and I was too naïve to do anything but talk to him. I was fourteen.

_"Hey there, how are you doing?" asks the man coming from the grocer's, stopping to greet me. He's a Peacekeeper, in uniform, but he can't be more than nineteen._

_ "Fine, you?"_

_ "Better now." He grins at me and winks._

_ "Thanks, I've got a boyfriend."_

_ "Well, no surprise there, you're cute."_

_ I giggle. This is exciting… but more than a little weird. "I'm fourteen."_

_ "Fourteen? That's an odd name!" He's joking, of course, but he seems so confused that I can't help but laugh again._

_ "Rhain, that is."_

_ "I'm Drusus. Eighteen and a half," he says proudly._

_ "That's a stranger name than Fourteen! Eighteen and a half, what were your parents thinking?"_

_ "Rhain, you're really funny. See you around sometime?" I nod in agreement and bounce off, on my way home._

I remember.

I remember taking the shortcut home after my second date with Timothy.

_It's dark. Really dark. Even though it's before eight, the night has set in pretty quickly and it's cloudy. I don't want to go the long way home, and I know an alleyway that can cut my travel time in half. It's not a very clean place, and I usually avoid it, but I'd rather take a shortcut than walk the whole way home in this suffocating darkness. Actually, I wish Timothy could walk me home, but he lives in the opposite direction and his family is waiting on him to get back._

_ I'm about halfway down the alley when I see the dark figure just ahead. My heart beats a little faster, but I don't stop moving._

_ "Hey there, Rhain."_

_ "Drusus! I was afraid for a second. I'm glad you're someone I know, though."_

_ "Come on, let me walk you the rest of the way home." We're almost out of the alley when there's a rough hand on my shoulder, tugging at the sleeve of my dress and Drusus is whispering in my ear. "Tell anyone about this and I will make you and your whole family suffer for it." _

I remember.

I remember giving birth to his child, just after turning fifteen, in Robin's house because my mother convinced Father to kick me out.

_"I don't want it."_

_ "It's not an it, Rhain, it's a she."_

_ "I don't want the thing. Take it to the orphanage." With my body still exhausted and hurting, I curl up in the fetal position on the bed, turning away from Robin and the creature she holds._

_ "She's your baby, Rhain, take her."_

_ "She's his baby too and I don't want her. It hurt enough then, I don't want the hateful reminder all my life. How can I love this child after what happened?"_

_ A squirming bundle is forced into my arms. I try to keep myself from looking at it but I just can't. The baby cries until I adjust her in my arms. She's got wisps of blonde hair and big blue baby eyes and I think I may be able to actually feel love again._

_ "Hope. Her name is Hope."_

I remember everything as Roxana Rellinger calls out my name. I didn't expect my life to flash before my eyes so soon. I'm screaming and trying to break out and run away. I'm trying to latch onto everything that I have left. Robin. Hope. I still have Hope. I have my jobs. I have a life, a shattered life but I could still live, just please, please let me go. I want to live. I don't want to die. I don't want to die! I am only fifteen years old, I don't want to die.

I reach for the crowd. Most are melancholy, eyes full of sorrow and pain and the beginnings of grief now. They cannot bring themselves to care anymore. But I can see some of them trying to help me, urging me to run faster and some even reaching back for me. Robin's mother is standing there with Hope at the front of the crowd, and I run for them. I need to get to them, I need to get to them so badly! If I can make it to there, I tell myself, I will be free.

A powerful arm sweeps into my guy like an iron bar, I'm knocked off my feet and grabbed by several Peacekeepers. I panic, thrashing and screaming and trying to break free because I could live, I could live and I could actually make it but I'm caught now. My feet drag along the paving stones as the Peacekeepers pull me along; the screams are pure fear now, not just at the reaping but because they're grabbing my arms like _he_ did a year ago and the memories flood back and everything's a blur of terror.

I'm deposited on stage and left to my own devices to stand. Shakily I manage it, and Roxana looks at me curiously. They think I might actually stand here and accept this fate while I still have a chance at escape? I think not. I leap for the edge of the stage but the Peacekeepers are more ready for it than I thought they would be. They jerk me back by the shoulders and I end up flailing around again, trying uselessly to shake off their grips. This time they won't leave me a way to escape. I'm hauled inside the Justice Building.

"Whoa, what are you doing with her, the ceremony's not over yet!" A woman hollers at the Peacekeepers from the other side of the lobby area.

"Avia Brooke," one of them snarls, "You're supposed to be sitting out there onstage!"

"And you tell us off for removing a troublemaker from the ceremony? We can't exactly lose a tribute, Ms. Brooke. You're a major part of the ceremony." The second Peacekeeper tries to reprimand the sole District Nine victor.

"Whatever. They focus on the tributes, not me. I'm not popular right now, the fresh meat is. And I really hate watching these ceremonies." She finally looks at me, the skinny little girl still struggling to escape from the two men. "Who's this then?"

"Rhain Miller. This year's female tribute. Fifteen. She tried to run twice."

Avia examines me briefly before looking me right in the eyes. "I'm so sorry, Rhain. So, so sorry."

The Peacekeepers throw me in the visiting room right after Avia retreats. There's a while to wait now, since I'm sure they've barely chosen the poor boy who will be joining me in death, and then irritating Roxana will give her ending words. After that, any visitors for me will have to make their way to the Justice Building. It's too long. As I wait alone, I can start to calm down; the harsh new reality sinks in. In the silence, in the tension, I can only break down and cry. There's no escape now, they've got me too closely guarded. _But I could still live_. Through my sobs I try to imagine becoming a victor, like Avia, and I can't imagine what it would be like.

The doorknob finally begins to turn and I jerk my head up. Who is coming to say goodbye to me? My parents? Robin? Will someone bring Hope to me?

No. Because Robin's mother, who has Hope, and I both know that a visit from my daughter is the last thing I need. I would not be able to say goodbye. And it would hurt us all too badly.

I see dark skin and black hair. Robin. She sees me crying and is at my side in an instant. "Shh, shh, Rhain, shh. It'll be all right. Come on, dear, calm down." She kneels beside me and wipes at my glistening cheeks with her fingers.

"Robin…"

"Yeah, Rhain?" I can't actually say anything though; I end up breaking down again and Robin just hugs me.

I sniffle and open my mouth, determined to get something out this time. "You made it through your reapings, Robin."

The older girl nods, a little sadly. "I was on the fence, though. I almost volunteered for you. They never gave anyone a chance, though."

"Nobody would have," I spit out bitterly, "All the girls there think I'm trash now."

"Don't talk like that," Robin snaps, "So some of them betrayed you. You don't even know most of them. And Winnow? You pushed her away. She would have been there for you had you asked. So don't say every girl out there hated you. Because it's not true." I don't answer. "This is important, Rhain. You've sunk into depression, sure. My mom says so- I'll believe it. But I will not let you give up. I'm here. You've got Hope. You've got hope."

"I can live, Robin. I will fight and win and live."

"Are you sure that's what you want, Rhain?"

"I have a friend- you. I have the honest jobs that give me enough money to keep marching on. I have my own little family. That's a cause enough to win for. Of course I want that." Hadn't she just told me that I have hope? That I can't give up?

"Sometimes not giving up is simply staying true to yourself. Look, if you end up winning those Games and going crazy or changing on such a deep level that you aren't you any longer, that is giving up. But if you die and you're still the Rhain Miller that has survived so much already, that's not giving up."

"I can't die. Hope is the only thing I have left. Why stay myself? That man ruined me a year ago. Why bother trying to keep that part of me alive?"

"Because if that part of you dies, and you come back, you will not be Hope's mother. You will not be my friend Rhain. You will be Rhain Miller, the victor. And that will be a different person."

"Robin, you're talking like you want me to die."

My friend's eyes fill with tears. "Rhain, right now I want you to come home more than anything in the world. But you cannot let the Games change you or you will not be the person that is only alive right now because _there is a possibility her daughter might grow up to be a better person_."

"Hope needs me, in any form I am. I will come home. For you, Robin, and for my girl. And I swear, I will do my best to remain who I am."

Robin's voice cracks. "I love you, Rhain!" She wraps me in a tight hug, "And I'll take care of Hope as long as I live!"

"Take care of yourself, too, Robin." I rest my head on my best friend's shoulder and cry.

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**I hope you guys liked these characters :) Tell me what you thought!  
I KNOW there are some of you who will dislike Rhain because the basic character format is getting to the point where it is considered cliché. I chose to use her because I wanted to write such a character and see how I can develop her differently.**

**One reaping left, dear old District Eleven! **

**For the remaining pre-Games story, there will be four Capitol chapters with six POVs each. :)**


	13. District Eleven Reapings

**LOOK LOOK LOOK THE LAST REAPING CHAPTER XD District Eleven, everyone! Our girl Lydia Fern is from Even when musics gone and our boy Damien Summers is from SparrowCries!**

**DISCLAIMER! I do not own Lord of the Rings. I am not in any way affiliated with the Tolkien Estate. The lines quoted are from Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter Three- "Mount Doom". And even then they are not word for word.  
Just wanted to give you all a nice little nerdy reference :D**

**Also: poll on my profile, vote for your favorites!**

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DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE: DAMIEN SUMMERS

" _"Yes," said Frodo. "But remember Gandalf's words: _Even Gollum may have something yet to do. _But for him, Sam, I could not have destroyed the Ring. The Quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him! For the Quest is achieved, and now all is over. I am glad you are with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam."_ "

Well, there's the end of the chapter. I should probably leave now.

I slide a piece of string into the book, marking my place, and snap the old thing closed. It sends up a cloud of dust, making my eyes water; I try to hold back a sneeze, but to no avail. I pull my hands up to cover my mouth and the book drops to the floor with a heavy thud. After stifling the sneeze, I wipe my nose on my sleeve and groan. This creaky old bookstore has had enough books destroyed by time already- it doesn't need any more accidents. Picking up the old text and gently brushing the dirt off its cover, I place the book carefully on its shelf.

"What was that noise, Damien?" the store owner, Mr. Ferrey, emerges from the back room and asks me.

"Oh, nothing. And by the way, I'm leaving."

Mr. Ferrey glances at me suspiciously, like he's looking for the source of the noise. And since I'm the only person in here, it had to be me. It was, of course. At last the old man relaxes and moves towards some of the other bookshelves. "Weren't you leaving?" he's snappish now. He's not exactly fond of me- an old bookstore doesn't mean good business in District Eleven, and I never spend any money here, I just sit and read. He doesn't do anything about it, though. What is there to do? Most days I'm probably the only person who cares about this place.

But I leave without hesitation today.

I've been reading the story of a great adventure, the kind of adventure that I will never have. It's full of danger- characters have died, but people die all the time. With the book I'm currently reading, the characters are in a really dangerous scenario right now, but there are plenty of chapters for them to escape. It's the most exciting thing, this story life, and I'm stuck here in farming-for-life peasant-land District Eleven. Sometimes I wish I would wake up and all this turns out to be a dream and I'm doing something awesome with my life.

The hero. I want to be the hero. The one who gets the best stories, right? In every story, the one who saves the day, who gets the girl, who has the best ending. I wouldn't care what kind of hero. The main hero, the gallant knight or superhero or strong character who swoops in and wins the battle and saves the day. That would be great. But a quiet hero would be good too, the one who moves the story along and keeps the others sane.

I'd be fine with the villain too, the antagonist. The one that's feared. The powerful, evil, charismatic character that corrupts and eventually falls, of course, but in his (or her, I suppose) time some people may even enjoy the character.

Anything but this life I'm living, really. Any good story is better than here. It's so boring here. Isn't there anything else to do? Work, fight with my brother, read other people's stories, eat, sleep, exist. I can barely tolerate it. My life is nothing compared to the stories I've read. Why can't things happen? Why can't I have adventures like those characters? Why can't my life be a story?

Because right now living my life is like watching grass grow. And living in Eleven, I've actually done that. There's a lot of grass. No matter what I try to make things different, my efforts are torn down or go unnoticed and nothing ever changes. And here I am, on the way back to my boring home and humdrum family.

I want to walk slowly enough so that I have to turn back to the town square before I reach home, but I've got so much energy bubbling over from my thoughts that I'm only a few minutes away from the house by the time I decide to slow down. What's the point of spending twenty minutes on less than a quarter mile of road? That's even more boring than usual.

So I reach home with plenty of time to spare. I fling the door open, stomping inside and thus alerting Mom, Dad, and Stephen to my presence. They're eating breakfast and chatting about nothing important. I ate breakfast alone, an hour and a half ago. Now they're all looking at me. "Damien!" Mom says, "I didn't think you'd be home! I had thought you went straight to the town square this morning!"

"I decided to change my clothes, Mom," I reply bluntly.

"Those look fine, dear," she seems confused.

"It's too warm out for long pants." She nods when she gets it at last. See, this is what Mom worries herself with. Clothes, work, the house. Us. The little things. There's so much more she could be thinking about! Why am I the only one who bothers to realize it?

I go to my room and change into gray shorts. No matter what I put on, it's a hand-me-down from my older brother Stephen. We're almost exactly the same in appearance- light brown skin, dark eyes, short dark hair, tall and wiry- he's just a few inches taller and a little more muscular.

I race out the door, almost free when Dad stops me. "Damien, today's your last reaping. Go on out to the square and let's get it over with, all right? We'll be there soon." I nod and turn to go again.

"Hey, I'll go right now too," Stephen jumps up from the table and follows me, "I'm meeting Lila at the square and I need to be there on time." I groan. Stephen and his girlfriend. He doesn't feel like they have enough money to get married yet, but I know he desperately wants to get out of the house. I am sick of hearing about Lila.

Unfortunately for me, Stephen doesn't want to talk about Lila on the way to town. "Today's your last reaping, bro."

I roll my eyes. One, Dad said this already. Two, I know it. "I know, Stephen, I'm not an imbecile."

"Take this seriously, Damien! Today's the last day you could be chosen. The last day this country is gonna care about you possibly going to fight to the death. So don't screw anything up."

"What, you think I honestly want to do something stupid today?"

"Well, let's look at your past. You've tried to 'spice things up' in the district and ended up looking extremely stupid hundreds of times- that's from all that my-stories-are-better talk, you know."

"Give me a real example, Stephen."

"And you knocked me out of a tree and got us both scars on the first day of work in the orchards." He jabs a finger at a long pink scar on his arm as proof.

"That was a legitimate fight. And it came from you tearing me down."

"I told you that you should get used to life the way it is and stop trying to make your adventures happen."

"Exactly. A legitimate fight." Stephen snorts in exasperation and I grin triumphantly. No more conversation. Luckily the remaining walk to the square isn't too long, and I can ditch Stephen with his girl almost as soon as we reach the crowds of people getting ready for the reaping. I register with the Peacekeepers for the last time and take my place in the eighteen-year-olds section. The other guys there are anxious, like always, but there's a thrill of excitement in them- if not all of our demographic gets out of this, all but one will. And to the hopeful, there's the small chance that that one will come back.

I look around me, searching in the crowd for my friend Macory. He's here somewhere, his parents will have brought him to the reaping ceremony early so that he would have plenty of time to embarrass himself trying to actually talk to some girl and still get to the section without making a scene. To put it mildly, the boy is awkward. I don't know how I can stand him sometimes. Then again, he's said on numerous occasions he doesn't know how he can stand me.

"Damien!" I whip my head in the direction the voice comes from. Yeah, it's Macory, nodding to me from a few yards away. I push through the throng of other guys to reach him. "I saw you coming. You're blind, apparently, I was trying to get your attention."

"Yeah, whatever."

"So, last reaping?"

"At last! Now there's a chance to do something else with life!"

"Oh, here we go again-"

"After the reaping is over, we'll be free to actually do things! School's over, nobody keeps going with school after their reapings, it's time for work. And opportunities to actually try and do something."

"Damien, you and you 'boring' life. Come on, there's plenty to do!"

"Yeah, sure, but nothing like the stories."

There's a loud squeal on the microphone and, surprised, I turn to the stage as the Mayor begins the Treaty of Treason. Macory has something he wants to say, but he gives up trying to talk over the Mayor's booming voice and I snicker at him. My friend elbows me hard in the ribs.

For a Mayor with such a loud voice, the eighteen-year-old guys are doing a very good job of not paying attention to the Treaty. It's funny.

Our Capitol representative hasn't changed a bit. Dear old Juvenal Price. He's been here since the Games began- since the year I was born. And it's a safe bet that everyone hates him.

"Once again, District Eleven, you're here after another failed year," he drones, "Two more teenagers dead in the Games. And two more to lose this time around. Let's get their names. To the ladies, then." He strides over to the bowl and nonchalantly plucks a name from the heap of papers.

"Lydia Fern."

There's not a commotion, no huge wail or even sudden movement. "Lydia Fern, we can't wait all day," Juvenal grits his teeth in impatience.

"I heard you," a soft voice calls out. The Peacekeepers hone in, but the girl's on her way already. When I see her, I can't help but laugh. She's wearing this long billowy dress and sandals and flowers in her hair. I was reading a book once, it kept talking about some people called hippies. They sounded a lot like this. When I see the 'peace sign' pendant around her neck, I have to bite my cheek. What a hippie. I can't stand this.

Juvenal's disappointed yet again. "No volunteers, I suppose. Of course not. On to the boys. And nobody try anything like last year, or else we'll send you all to the Games!" Everyone's taken aback by his sudden ferocity. "Hmm. Damien Summers."

I'm reeling in shock. Me? It was me? Hmph. My last year. It just had to be. Even the boring life is quitting on me, then.

Well, I wouldn't say boring. Not anymore. Not going to the Capitol, even to the Games. I'm strong from working hard for years now. I have a chance.

I should probably be more scared than I feel right now.

But this is my story now, my story is beginning. I'm free to be whatever character I want. I've always wanted to be the hero.

DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: LYDIA FERN

There's a baby bird on the ground. It's tinier than any bird I've seen before and its pale gray feathers are all fluff. As I approach it starts cheeping frantically, helplessly. I bite my lip and watch it for a few moments before kneeling down next to the little thing. It keeps up quite a racket, which makes me laugh, but soon I gently scoop it up in my hands and glance into the orchard trees above us. "Come on, little guy, where'd you fall from? You didn't just appear on the ground!"

Some people think that bird parents won't take back a baby if it has human scent on it. Not true, I've done this before and it worked out fine. You know, humans are much more reluctant to take in kids with something odd about them. It's sad.

The little bird keeps chirping. "Oh, come on, you're not helping anyone!" I make a face at it and continue my search for a nest in the branches above my head. The ball of fluff shifts in my hands and I can feel its tiny feet on my skin. It tickles, and I want to get the almost itchy feeling out of my hands, but I'm not dropping the baby bird back on the ground. "You couldn't have fallen too far from your nest, so where is it?" I follow the line of each branch, looking for a nest.

At last I see it, balanced safely at the fork of a branch. It's about six feet out from the main trunk, but the branch is easily thick enough for me to venture out onto safely, even with a baby bird in my hand. The hard part will be reaching the branch, which is easily ten, maybe twelve feet in the air.

"Here goes nothing, I guess!" My bare feet are accustomed to finding holds on a trunk, and here is no different. With the baby bird in my left hand, I wrap my right arm around a low branch and kick up to wrap my legs around it. It takes some time, but I can get to a comfortable sitting position on the branch.

I can use my left arm and wrap it around the bases of branches, but I have to be reliant on my right. The baby bird has calmed down for the most part, but every few moments it cheeps again. "Yeah, yeah, I know you're there!"

The branches are getting thinner, making me choose more carefully where to go next. Most of them are plenty thick, but there are a few here and there that I wouldn't trust my weight on. "Almost there!"

I haul myself onto the branch with the nest, grinning. "That took way too long." Then I inch towards the nest on my belly, the little bird still safe in my palm. "There you are, home at last!" I slide the ball of fluff into the nest alongside three other babies. "Don't fall out again, you hear?" For a minute or two I'm content with watching the birds sit there and be baby birds, but then I remind myself that I'm twelve feet up in the air and I should probably be getting home.

I retreat along the branch, my journey made a lot quicker now that I have the use of both of my hands.

It's only when I'm moving down the trunk that I make a mistake. I reach blindly with my foot for a branch that's too thin, and when I put my full weight on it- SNAP!

Of course. Rookie mistake. I'll try not to do it next time.

I grab at anything I can as I fall, flailing and twisting in the air, but there's not actually that much left to grab on to. I fall seven feet to the ground. In fact, I almost catch myself, but I land funny and end up collapsing flat on my back. At least the wind wasn't driven out of me.

I stand up and brush myself off. I can't see my entire dress, but if there's a bit of dirt left on the back it won't hurt me. I pick up a fallen flower from the ground- the fall must have dislodged it from my dark braid- and stick it back in my hair before heading back home.

"Mom, I'm back!"

"I was just ready to head out, let's go," my mom says, laying an arm across my shoulders and smiling warmly at me as we walk right back out the door. "How was your walk, Lyd?"

"Fine. I fell out of a tree, but I helped a bird get home again so… it was all right."

Mom, thankfully, doesn't freak out over the tree incident. "What kind of bird was it?"

"Umm. Baby? Fluffy and pale gray."

She laughs. "That doesn't narrow it down too much, but oh well." She looks over my outfit. "Mom's necklace and bare feet?"

I look down at the pendant I'm wearing- it used to be my grandmother's- and run my fingers over the shiny symbol. "Yeah, like always. I polished the peace sign this morning and anyway, bare feet are more comfortable."

"She would be so proud of you, you know. Your dreams are just as wild as hers were. You two think just the same."

"Grandma Astrid taught me a lot of things, why wouldn't I think like her?"

"And I'm so glad you do, love. I couldn't have asked for a better daughter. You've got the biggest imagination and you don't hate. And you're my child." She tucks a stray wisp of hair behind my ear.

"Mom, you're gushing again."

"Nervous." I give an understanding nod- I'm nervous too. I've taken plenty of tesserae over my four years of eligibility.

"I'll be fine. Come on, the odds are still in my favor. We have to have hope, remember. That's what Grandma always said."

"And she also used to say that she had a flying pig as a child," Mom grins and pokes me in the side. At least it cheered her up a bit.

I roll my eyes. "Grandma's proud of you too, Mom, for remembering her old jokes." We both laugh now.

"Hey, we're coming into town now. Do you want to go up ahead and find Callie? Go find her. I'll see you after."

"All right. Love you!"

"Love you too!" I bound ahead into the town to find my best friend. I don't have time to check her favorite places to see if she's doing anything there before the reaping, so I head straight to registration. "Hey," I ask the girl ahead of me, "have you seen Callie Evans?" She hasn't. I turn to the boy who's just entered the line behind me and ask him the same question. No, he hasn't either.

I fidget in line until it's my turn to have my finger pricked. Reluctantly holding out my hand to the Peacekeeper, I clench my other fist until it's over and I can go on. I step past and look into the crowd of teenage girls- am I really supposed to find Callie in there? She's short and I'm not that much taller. Plus, she may not even be there. Oh well, I've just gotta keep-

"BOO!" someone shouts in my ear- in addition, they poke me in the side and I flinch double.

"Augh!" I whirl around, my yelp turning to laughter. Of course it's Callie, who else would it be, really? My other friends tend to be a bit more polite.

"I got you so badly! Admit it!"

"You did, you did!" I'm in a giggling fit now. Callie smirks. "All right, let's go find a spot before this starts."

"Come on, you want to find a spot now? Are you actually eager for this?"

"Of course not, Callie, I don't want to be here at all! But it's something we can do and we won't be scrambling later!" We stand for a moment, just looking at each other.

"You're such an optimist." Callie says, and rolls her eyes, but I grin and pull her into the fifteens section behind me. "Someone's gonna go off to die today, and you're worried about being on time."

"Geez, pessimist much?" I reply, taking my opportunity to return Callie's smirk. "Look, they're getting ready to begin right now. See, this is a lot easier than if we were trying to find a space a minute ago. A lot less stressful."

They aren't actually starting. The Mayor has just come onstage, but that's close enough, really. We only have a few moments. "Lyd, no matter how you look at this entire thing, it's stressful. Reaping, remember?" I gnaw on my lip and nod in agreement with my friend. It's the scariest thing ever.

"Welcome, citizens of District Eleven," begins our mayor. He's so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts. I wince. He moves into the Treaty of Treason almost immediately and I quickly shift my gaze to Callie, already holding in laughter. Every year, she does a different impression of the Treaty. This year, she's squawking along under her breath with her eyes crossed. All the girls around us are trying not to laugh out loud. It's a nice stress relief.

Our escort really makes me angry. Every year, he comes and makes fun of our district and tells us how worthless we are and ugh, it's like he's determined to tear away our hope. I can hardly tolerate him. I try to not hate people, but Juvenal Price tests my limits. He and the people who think it's a good idea to have children fight to the death every year.

"Once again, District Eleven, you're here after another failed year," he drones, "Two more teenagers dead in the Games. And two more to lose this time around. Let's get their names. To the ladies, then." He goes to choose a name and there's a wave of fear sweeping over all of us. I grab Callie's hand and she squeezes mine in return. "Lydia Fern."

I gulp.

I am more afraid than I ever have been in my entire life. I don't know where to go. For a second I lose track of everything. Callie gasps and clutches my hand so hard that my fingers lose circulation. I shift closer to the other girl, hoping that she'll never leave my side. I don't want to leave her, she's like a sister. (We could be sisters in appearance, I suppose. The same dark skin, black hair, petite build.)

"Lydia Fern, we can't wait all day," I actually really want to slap Juvenal right now. However, his rudeness dislodges me from my shock.

"I heard you," I call out. Shaking, I step forward, going up to the stage. I smile a little at the thought of getting up there and actually slapping the escort. I won't, of course, but it's funny to think about. And my brain is so fried I can barely think of anything else.

I see my mother in the crowd; she's got her hands over her mouth and tears are streaming down her face. My heart jumps up to my throat. I don't want to leave her. I love her and I want to go to her now and hug her and never leave District Eleven- my home. My stupid legs keep moving straight on in their shock and before I know it I'm standing next to Juvenal Price. There are tears in my eyes and I let them stay.

A boy is called up. He's tall and powerful and it seems like he's perfectly fine with going to the Hunger Games.

What could he possibly be thinking, that he might actually be all right with leaving home?

With my right hand I shake my new district partner's hand. With my left, I rub the peace symbol pendant hanging around my neck.

If I need anything right now, I need hope. Hope and a friend.

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**On to the Capitol we go!**

**Please tell me what you thought of this chapter. Personally I didn't feel it came out very well, but if you guys liked it...**

**I HAVE QUESTION(S) FOR YOU!**

**Now that we're coming up on the Capitol chapters, what alliances do you think will be made? Any rivalries?**

**:D**


	14. First Impressions

**Welcome to the Capitol, everyone! XD There will be four Capitol chapters, with 6 POVs per chapter, and then on to the Games! In this chapter, we have the train rides to the chariot rides. XD**

**Thanks to everyone who has voted on the poll so far, and if you haven't, go do it now!**

* * *

**DISTRICT NINE MALE: KNOX BLAKE**

My breath catches in my throat as I step onto the sleek Capitol train. Everything's pristine and beautiful and very, very scary. I feel like I've dropped straight into one of Grandma's stories. But am I the hero anymore? I don't know. I don't feel like a hero.

Heroes can be afraid. They're still human. Heroes can be afraid.

The train door slides shut behind us and there's the tiniest of shudders as the long silver train begins to pull forward. I can see out a window and I'm amazed by the speed at which we are moving.

Roxana Rellinger claps her hands in delight as I enter a train car full of luxurious furniture and a feast laid out on crystal tables. I can only gape as the scene presents itself- it's like a dream except I couldn't have ever imagined so much food or such elaborate designs.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Roxana squeals, and I flinch at her voice yet again, "Imagine, if you had never been reaped you wouldn't have ever gotten to see this train! And this is only the beginning! Just wait until the Capitol!"

"Shut up, Roxy." That's Avia Brooke, District Nine's only victor. I smile a little at the blunt command. Roxana squeaks indignantly but Avia's sullen authority actually drives her to silence. I feel a sudden rush of affection for Ms. Brooke. "So, Knox, how are you holding up?" Avia directs me to a squishy chair and then takes a seat on a small couch across from me.

"I don't think I'm doing too well," I manage.

"Understandable. At least there's a start and you won't refuse help," my mentor snorts and rolls her eyes, "Unlike last year… But! Look, Knox, I have been trying to save every tribute who wanted my help for years now. It hasn't worked yet. And I am not a pleasant person to interact with. So, before I crush your dreams, what say you about these Games?"

I bite my lip and work up the courage to respond. "I don't want to die."

"Too general. Specifics!"

"Well, maybe it's not the death? It's the change. I don't want to break. I like myself fine right now, and I know that the Games destroy who you are…"

Something shifts in Avia's brown eyes. "That's a certain thing, boy. They do. And it hurts."

"I don't want that."

Avia brings her hands together with a loud clap. "Well! Good luck, then. I'll try and get you sponsors, try and teach you how to show the Gamemakers that you are worth saving- but in the end, no Victor has remained who they were. You can either be the first, or you can be dead."

"And most likely I'll be dead?"

Avia grimly nods. There's a heartbeat of silence before the bitter woman turns to Roxana. "Hey, Roxy, where's the girl? The one that they dragged into the Justice Building?"

"Miss Miller was confined to a separate car until the recap of the reaping ceremonies," the Capitol woman speaks primly, "So she will not be joining this conversation!"

I sink a little lower in my seat. Some of the people around me seemed to dislike the tall, silvery-haired girl, but she could be a friend. There's no reason for me to hate her before we even speak.

"Well, get her out here!" Avia snaps, "The program will be on any minute, you of all people should know how fast the Capitol pulls the footage together!"

Roxana bustles off to a different part of the train, leaving Avia and me alone. Now my mentor ignores me, like she's trying to forget that I'm here at all. I'm fine with being ignored. I have a district partner to meet.

Grandma's words echo in my mind. _They will betray you. You can only trust yourself_. I sort of want an ally, though. We'll see, I suppose.

Roxana reenters the car, hauling Rhain behind her. The girl refused to meet anyone's gaze and seems generally distraught. "Hi, Rhain," I whisper.

She blinks twice and glances up at me, almost confused. "Hi?"

"Knox, dear," Roxana chirps, "this is your district partner, Rhain. Rhain, honey, this is Knox!"

"Go away," Rhain mumbles. Roxana, flustered, shuts up for the second time.

"Are you all right, Rhain?" I ask gently. I'm not used to starting or even holding a conversation. Rhain doesn't act like she is, either.

"No, kid, I'm not." I'm not quite sure how to reply to that. Rhain is closed off, definitely afraid, but this can't be why a lot of people didn't like her in Nine. Plenty of people were blunt.

"I'm not a kid, you know, I'm thirteen. That's only what, two? years younger than you." Rhain and Avia both let out short, harsh laughs at this. I adjust my glasses a little self-consciously.

"Avia, when are the recaps going to begin?" Roxana Rellinger whines, "We weren't supposed to bring Rhain out until they were getting ready to begin!"

Avia Brooke doesn't answer the question, but instead turns away from Roxana. I see her wink at Rhain, and the girl smiles wryly. I grin as well. Avia is on our side, completely and honestly, even if she doesn't hold on to much hope.

A screen on the wall crackles to life, making Rhain and me jump. Avia sulks on her couch- she wasn't able to get Rhain out for as much extra time as she had been hoping, and Roxana sits up so straight it looks like she has a stick taped to her spine.

Fidgeting as the anthem plays and the Capitol seal fades from the screen, I see that Octavius Cairn has returned for another year as Capitol host of the Hunger Games. I gulp. This man could be announcing my death in a week.

"Welcome, Panem! It's been an eventful day, and twenty-four young tributes have been chosen for the honor of participating in the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games!"

**DISTRICT SEVEN MALE: BARKE ST. CLAIRE**

"Going to District One for the first set of tributes!" Octavius cheers, and gives the camera a toothy smile as his face disappears into the shot of the lavish luxury district. I sigh and fiddle with the hem of the shirt they gave me to wear on the train. It's fancy and scratchy, but it fits and at least I'm not shirtless anymore.

"Are you ready to see the others?" my district partner, Alyx, says. She's nice, even funny. And more importantly, she doesn't know what I am. I nod in response.

The girl who volunteers is really, really pretty. Blonde, slender, and tan with perfect makeup and hair. She's fast, though, and probably trained for years. A real femme fatale. The boy who is reaped comes up to the stage, and I'm expecting a ruthless volunteer any second, but the dark-skinned young man stops any volunteers and takes the spot. He looks even more deadly than the pretty girl.

District Two scares me. The delicate, sweet girl who volunteers stands out to me at once. Whatever she is, she can't be trusted. Sweet girls don't volunteer unless they're faking that kindness. The boy is fierce, storming onstage and glaring at the cameras. They blur his hand as he raises it into the air, but it's obvious. He's given all of Panem the finger. Alyx snorts in laughter, and I can't resist grinning a little myself.

But Andras Fey would kill us both in a heartbeat. There's no doubt about that.

District Three yields a threat as well, and that makes my heart beat a little faster. Cathodra is an older girl, but she doesn't stand out. Phi, though, has volunteered and he's almost appalling to look at. I blink a few times. I will not judge people on appearance, not when it has happened so much to me.

District Four, the last district where tributes train and volunteer- Careers- is just as dangerous as always. The girl is onstage in the blink of an eye and holds an aura of power. She'll be a real danger. Would I rather win and live the worst life imaginable, or let Sawyer Aurora kill me? The boy, even though he makes Alyx laugh with his disappointed outburst, has muscle and potential. He doesn't seem as violent as the others, though.

Five holds more tributes that stand out- the girl tries to run, but there are always runners. The boy- is he wearing eyeliner?- shoves a lighter into a Peacekeeper's face when they try to escort him onstage, but after they drag him up he seems utterly docile. A wild card, perhaps. Someone to watch.

"Nice fashion sense," Alyx comments dryly on him, giggling nervously.

Six is perhaps the first average district. Not even average, really. The kids chosen, a redheaded boy and a girl with choppy dark hair and freckles, are both strong. They don't cry or anything. Possibly, if I want allies, I might talk to Six.

I want to bury my face in the ugly Capitol shirt when home pops up on the screen. I don't want to see myself, and I don't want anyone else to see me. First Alyx is called, and the girl beside me whimpers a little as she watches herself go onstage. I groan and cover my face with my hands when Thunder reaches for the boy's name- my name. Alyx pats me on the shoulder as the scene unfolds onscreen, but all I can think about are all the Capitol citizens who will be watching me and deciding their first opinions.

Despite the crimson flush that's spreading across my face, I drop my hands and watch the rest of the recap program. I have lost any real interest now, but I guess I need to see the competition.

District Eight pulls out a girl with no nose. "That poor girl!" Alyx gasps, and I nod vaguely, but I've marked the girl off my threats list already. She might stand out but there is no way this noseless girl could kill me.

Alyx is sapping my involvement in this entire program or something, because as we flash to District Nine she leans forward and I slump back. There's a girl that keeps trying to escape- I hope for a moment that she will make it, but of course she doesn't, they wouldn't show her if she managed to break free- and Alyx looks like she's ready to meet this girl and be her best friend.

Ten produces an oddly happy, laughing boy, and I roll my eyes at him. How can this kid expect to survive if he doesn't take the Games seriously? I mentally mark him off my watch list. Eleven's girl, while a little more fearful than Ten-boy, seems like a flowery little thing, no real danger. Alyx may want to make friends with her, but I don't expect this Lydia Fern to make it past the bloodbath.

Her district partner is a lot stronger, and almost proud to be chosen. He shows no fear, only determination. Damien? I'll have to keep an eye on him.

District Twelve, last year so strong, is the most average of all the districts, giving two young, frightened tributes and nothing out of the ordinary to look out for.

I snatch up the controls for the screen and mash some buttons, and since all the recaps are over it lets me shut off the screen. I don't want to see Octavius Cairn's ugly face again.

"So what do you think of the other tributes, Barke?" Alyx asks me softly.

"The trained districts are a threat, the boy from Three, the boy from Eleven, maybe Six, possibly the boy from Five." Alyx looks at me expectantly. "Um… so what about you?"

"I want to ally with the girls from Eight, Nine, Eleven, and Twelve. I suppose you, too, if you want."

"Allies? Really?" I weigh the options. On one hand, I could have people watching my back- but they could betray me. Does it even matter? No matter what happens to me now, it's not worth living through. But I have my parents and Aubrey to support, and winning could help them. And I'm the only one I can trust. "Probably not." Alyx shrugs it off.

And how could I defeat a group of people that try to befriend me?

**DISTRICT TWELVE FEMALE: KYRA MONTGOMERY**

Eris has his nose pressed to the window of the train; he's watching the mountains go past and the trees flash by. We're in a whole different mountain range from District Twelve now- there's more snow on the peaks and the forests are vast and green. There are no signs of coal mining. And we already passed by a vast flat prairie. You don't find those in Twelve.

I stand up and walk over to the younger boy. He's energetic and friendly, so I feel all right talking to him. He's perfectly willing to talk to me.

"Hey, Eris, see anything cool?"

He shakes his head, but he doesn't move back from the glass, so his nose makes a little streak on the window. I stifle a giggle. "Just the same old stuff," he says. I shrug and turn to go sit down again, but unexpectedly, Eris follows me.

"Have you tasted the food yet, Kyra? It's really good!"

"What have you tasted? Point out some stuff!" I'm a little hungry, and the table has tons of food on it. It smells like everything good in the world.

Eris lunges for a type of bread, moist and cut into thick slices. I take the piece he offers me and look at it; it's swirled with dark brown streaks. Taking a cautious bite, I exclaim my delight through the taste of chocolate. They made chocolate bread. It's like paradise. I wolf down the rest.

"That was delicious, Eris, thanks for showing me!" He nods and even gives a mock salute. It's then that I really notice his fingers- they're all wonky. "Hey… what-?"

He knows what I'm talking about right away. "Oh, I end up dislocating or breaking my fingers a lot, no big deal." He gingerly touches one of his fingers. "I dislocated that joint this morning trying to fix a toy. As long as it's not broken, I can get over it pretty fast." He brushes it off, but I'm a little more concerned. Why would you do that to yourself?

I feel the train curving to one side. "Hey, Eris, we're changing direction now. Do you think…"

My district partner's face lights up. "Definitely!" We both rush back to the window. We're headed to a pass in the mountains, and I can catch a glimpse of something colorful in the rock. We're almost there- almost to the Capitol.

I shudder. The Capitol brought Eris and me here to die, and when something like that happens you sort of can't help but hate them. So why am I so eager to see the grand city?

Ms. Livia, our escort, enters the room with her clicky heels and comes over to stand between Eris and me. "Isn't it lovely?" she sighs, "Oh, the Capitol! We'll be there in about fifteen minutes, so get yourselves ready for the best week of your lives! Lucky little ducklings," she says affectionately, patting us on our heads.

"Ms. Livia?" I ask, "What do we do when we're in the city?"

"Dear, just be yourself, I'm sure they'll love you very much!"

When Ms. Livia leaves, I heave a sigh and back away from the window. Eris is straining for a better view of the city, and I'm tempted to do the same, but there's a huge knot in my stomach now. I'm getting more and more nervous with every passing minute. I don't want to see the city. It just means I'm getting closer and closer to the Games, and I'm so afraid. In fact, I'm getting a little nauseous. I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Kyra?" I blink and find Eris right in my face. "Are you doing all right? Please don't get sick, you're going pale."

"I'm fine," I mumble. He doesn't seem too sure about that, so to convince him I stand up and go to the window yet again. He joins me.

"Look there!" I follow his gaze and gasp. It's a huge shining city, bigger than anything I could imagine, and more colorful than anything back in District Twelve. My eyes flit from here to there, trying and failing to take it all in.

For such a cruel place, the Capitol is very pretty. I'm charmed by its glory and beauty in moments.

The train circles in to the city, slowing down as it goes, and I can start to make out smaller details like the ornate windows and oddly shaped buildings and opalescent glass designs. There are statues and fountains and small blurs that must be people. We haven't slowed enough to see them yet.

Eris and I can't do anything but stare. It's all so exciting.

The train finally decreases its speed enough to let us see the Capitol citizens.

The first person I get a good view of is a woman, dressed in a short, tight dress that's all fluorescent yellow and has geometric patterns coming off of it in all directions, cubes and prisms and things that reflect the light into my eyes.

A man clad in a crimson suit appears next; he has lots of heavy dark makeup on his face and makes him look like a ghoul or something else you don't want to ever find in your house at night.

Then I realize something. All of these people are looking at me. I gulp. Eris has realized it too, and is trying not to shrink back from the window. These people are cheering for us. No. They are cheering for the tributes of District Twelve. Well, sort of.

They are, in effect, cheering for our deaths.

And that is why I'm afraid.

**DISTRICT ONE FEMALE: DESIRE BLANCHARD**

Soli herds Ainsley and me into the Tribute Remake Center. Well, she doesn't herd us really, I'm more than willing to go- she just points me in the right direction. Which, actually, I sort of need, because I'm breathless right now. The Capitol's even bigger and more majestic than I thought it would be, and of course the citizens already adore me. How could they not? I'm perfect for them. I'm in my element.

"All right, Ainsley, you stay here, and Desire, follow me. The chariot rides are in just a few hours, we have to get you two ready by then!" I wave good-bye to my silent district partner and he nods in return, crossing his arms and waiting for Soli to return. Soli whisks me off down the corridor of the Remake Center to find my area. It's not too far, just around the corner. "Good! They have you in the right order this year- last time they had the district arrangements backwards and it was so irritating!" I smile, half-listening, and restrain myself from pushing past Soli to get into the room.

At last she lets me past and I barge into my own Remake Center. Soli disappears to go fetch Ainsley, taking with her the last of my anxiety. I get to be pampered now!

"Hello!" a young woman's voice chirps. I turn around to greet my prep team, coming face to face with a man and two women. The younger woman speaks again. "I'm Cassia!" She flips long bleached hair over her shoulder, showing off a tattoo on her neck of a silver vine that snakes over her collarbone and disappears beneath her black Remake Center uniform.

The other woman steps forward and introduces herself as Marina. She's got bright orange eyes and deep blue hair to coordinate. I cringe. Orange _so_ does not go with her complexion.

"And I'm Aquila," the man steps forward and bows to me. I giggle a little. He has lime green skin and hot pink hair and nails. That's hilarious. A better color scheme than navy and pumpkin-orange at any rate! "Are you ready to begin your remake, Miss…?"

"Oh, just call me Desire!" I giggle. Cassia and Marina nod.

Ugh. Can I just meet the stylist already? These clowns just take up my time. This is ridiculous.

I'm stripping before they can ask- I know the process, come on, let's get it over with- and the prep team gets right to work. I smirk when they're limited to small jobs- scrubbing, trimming, and polishing, for example. I know how to maintain personal hygiene.

"You wax your legs!" Cassia's delighted to discover.

I scoff. "Of course, leg hair is nasty!"

In similar scenarios, Marina is pleased to find that I pluck my eyebrows and have a skin care routine. Aquila has hardly anything to do with my hair except pour Capitol products on it. I'm fine with that; they can only make me look better!

"Well, Desire honey, I'm proud to say that you have been remade!" Marina exclaims, giving me a paper robe to put on. I accept it but don't bother wearing it.

"That's not saying much," Cassia puts in, "considering the effort you put into yourself already!" She smiles at me and I thank her profusely (and I sound so shallow. Ugh. I know this already, I shouldn't even bother thanking someone for pointing it out!).

"It's been a pleasure, madame," Aquila bows again, "You look wonderful." Captain Obvious strikes again! "Just wait here for Hero- he'll be here in a few minutes."

The prep team exits and I take a seat on the little chair. This Hero had better be really good. I need to look better than anyone else out there, especially the other trained girls. I swing my legs absentmindedly as I wait for my stylist. I have plenty of ideas for the chariot costumes that would totally steal the show, but I can't have them created for the rides. I'm stuck with whatever this Hero gives me to wear.

"Desire Blanchard?" The voice at the door has to belong to my stylist.

"Come in!" A man strides into the room with a long garment bag, which he hangs up on a hook near the door.

"The prep team said they didn't have to do anything major at all- I can see why, you're very beautiful." I take the compliment as genuine this time. Hero seems to know what he's doing. He pulls up a chair and sits in front of me. "Are you hungry at all? Would you like something to eat? There's time before you have to get into the costume."

Why would I even consider eating now? I'd end up bloated and imagine how unattractive that would be for the chariot rides! No. I hardly eat as it is- I need to keep my shape and if that means starving myself so be it, slenderness is important. I won't ruin it on the most important night of my life.

"No, thanks. Can I get ready right now?" Hero laughs heartily and nods, bringing over the outfit that he's prepared. Unzipping the garment bag, he reveals a long purple gown, strapless with a plunging neckline. There's a long train with tones of blue and green in it, and amethysts cover the bodice. There's a delicate tiara-style headdress as well, royal purple with pieces of emerald and purple quartz.

I eagerly slip into the dress. It fits perfectly and, frankly, I don't see how anyone can end up prettier than me. Hero comes up behind me and adjusts the train like a cape.

"Wait, wait, wait. What if I hold it over my arm like this instead?" I drape the fabric over one arm.

As he goes to find his makeup kit or something, Hero nods. "Yeah, that looks… majestic. The cape bit was Tigris's idea, and between you and me she's lost her touch."

I laugh and turn back to the mirror.

This is going to be perfect.

**DISTRICT FOUR MALE: CALDER MCCULLIN**

The elevator is one of the most confusing things I have ever experienced. Going down to the chariots, I feel like my stomach is trying to surf its way up to my mouth. Yeah, no, not fun. I would not recommend it at all. Sawyer seems a lot more at ease with the movement, and I'm a little jealous. I spend my time in the waves, why can I not get the hang of this?

Sawyer shoots me a dirty look as the elevator comes to a halt and I stagger around the small box. "Will you stop acting stupid?" she hisses at me.

"Aw, come on, that was wild!"

"It's an elevator, drama queen."

"Hey, I'm king of the surf, not queen of the stage!"

Sawyer rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath. This chick is way too on edge about meeting the other tributes for the first time. Lighten up! If you look so good- and she certainly does, in her short blue dress with dark wave patterns that change with the light- you need to have some fun with it. I stroll out of the elevator and glance around at all the different chariots. Most of the tributes are here, but I don't see Two or Six yet.

"DISTRICT FOUR HAS ARRIVED!" I sing, leaping into the open and waving my arms like a wounded octopus. Sawyer groans from behind me, but I see the boy from Ten grin from underneath his cow suit. That's all I need, one good reaction. Sawyer's opinion doesn't even matter.

I stride past the other chariots, heading to the District Four area. I grin at the others as I pass by, seeing what reaction I'll get from them. Some of the younger ones smile, but some, like the girl from Ten and the girl from Five, are just annoyed like my district partner.

I shrug and move on to our chariot. We've got a light green and light blue color scheme this year, and our chariot is a cool ivory color with blue waves and green accents painted on it. The horses, controlled by Avoxes, are white with sea-foam green harnesses.

"Hey, Sawyer, isn't this cool?" I turn to her and she nods grudgingly, like she hates agreeing with me.

"Look, there's the tributes from One. Don't embarrass yourself, Calder."

"Cal."

"Whatever." She goes over to the pair. The dark-skinned man nods curtly in greeting while the pretty blonde girl is much more energetic.

She's really hot. Wow.

I follow my district partner, hoping for a similar greeting. I get it, but from the male tribute- he was reaped too, I think. The cute girl, I think her name is Desire, looks me up and down. "What was your stylist even thinking?" she says, sounding disgusted.

"Um, ocean?" I joke, glancing down. I'm wearing board shorts made from the same material as Sawyer's dress, and according to my stylist it 'showed off my athletic physique' or something fashion-technical like that. And on top of that they painted me blue. Or, at least gave me blue swirly water designs that are mirrored in the details of Sawyer's heavy eye makeup.

I look at the girl's jewel-encrusted purple gown. Her stylist is really good. She looks better than anyone else here, and that definitely includes the Capitol women. I always thought the Capitol was supposed to be 'glamorous' but when I saw the girls in town I was pretty much convinced otherwise. They're hideous.

"Have you even trained?" Desire asks, more than a little snobby.

"Well, not officially, but I can fight and run and stuff. Surfing and spearfishing." I try and flex my muscles as subtly as I can, but this chick doesn't notice.

"Are you even going to join our alliance?" she snaps. I shut up. Well, if the other option is being on her bad side, then…

"Yeah, totally!"

Sawyer cuts in. "Wait, who put you in charge? You look like you can't even hold a sword. What's your weapon, seduction?" Desire seems taken aback, but she backs down quickly. Sawyer's pretty scary. "Anyway, we haven't even met the two from Two yet."

"You will in a second," Desire's district partner speaks up, "Here they come now." He points to the elevator. Sure enough, the last two of the 'Careers' are on their way over.

Desire acts like she's going to greet them first, welcome them to the alliance, but Sawyer quickly cuts her off. "So District Two decided to show up at last!" Melody smiles and nods in return while Andras examines us carefully.

"Nice outfits," Desire slips in her comment, dripping with sarcasm. Melody and Andras are dressed like ancient soldiers, with plumed helmets and body armor and everything.

"You too," Andras shoots back, "now do us all a favor and lose the cape. It's going to hit me in the face while we're in the chariots."

Everyone but Desire laughs. "It's not a cape, it's a train. And shut up," she retorts.

"A train? Isn't transportation District Six?" Sawyer teases. Desire clenches her hands into fists by her side.

"Should we move to the chariots now?" Melody worries. She seems like a nice girl. I wonder why she volunteered? I dunno, maybe we'll find out later. Hopefully during training.

"Why bother? This is fine," Sawyer replies, "We'll disperse when we have to." I notice that Desire is looking more and more unhappy about backing down so easily to my district partner. Poor girl, she looks a lot nicer when she's happy. Sad people aren't usually the most fun, either.

We chat for a few more minutes, but Andras and Sawyer have stopped messing with Desire and I feel better about that. Finally, one of the Peacekeepers announces that it's time to get ready to go. I climb into the District Four chariot alongside Sawyer and get ready. I can make this awesome.

**DISTRICT EIGHT FEMALE: VISCA MARTIN**

I ignore Shiloh, who is standing beside me in the District Eight chariot, and gently press my fingers to my nose. I'm panicking right here, right now, and they haven't even let District One go yet.

Shiloh and I have barely said a word to each other. I don't want to talk, he doesn't want to talk, and everything's fine that way. It is nice to have someone from home here. The boy is calm, and it's almost like a reminder that I'm not alone in my fear. Shiloh's stuck beside me in this stupid terrifying chariot, wearing a dumb quilt-pattern suit.

The huge wooden doors at the front of the stabling area creak open and my fear redoubles as the roaring cheers of the Capitol echo in my ears. And it's not just the Capitol- all of Panem will see this event and all of Panem will be watching me! How am I supposed to cope? Before the reaping I hadn't been outside in months! Now I'll be seen nationwide, with my fake nose and wearing a stupid poufy patchwork dress.

I try to focus on the outfits of the different districts. District One is sleek, glamorous, and purple. There's a lot of purple. And jewels, even on the male tribute's tuxedo. District Two has odd armor and their outfits seem to have been designed to show power. The tributes from Three have one of the most complex costumes I've ever seen- they have interlocking metal plates over black jumpsuits, but there are illuminated wires snaking between these plates. Their faces are half-covered with a robotic headdress and then painted like… what is it called? A circuitboard?

As I'm peering at District Three's complicated outfits, they begin to move. The screams of the Capitol have gotten much louder and I flick my gaze to the little part of the stadium in view. District Two is just exiting, and Three is preparing to move out. The screams for District One are so, so loud. They seem to decrease in volume for Two.

I swallow the bile that's creeping up my throat and glance behind my chariot instead. District Nine have tan jumpsuits with darker brown streaks and they're both holding sheaves of wheat. No, I can't watch behind me, I need to know what's happening! I snap my head to the front again.

The District Five chariot pulls out ahead, and I can hear a note of derision in the cheers now. The poor kids are dressed like sparks of electricity. Basically, they were wearing neon yellow blobs of fabric with some dark zigzags.

I turn my eyes to District Seven's costumes instead. I can focus on the pattern of twigs and leaves- actual twigs and leaves, too, woven together on top of green jumpsuits- and still feel like I know what's happening without having to watch the few chariots ahead roll out.

It doesn't help that District Seven starts to move ahead as I'm watching them. I can't do this I can't do this I actually cannot do this. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the colors and everything but I can't do it.

With a lurch the chariot starts moving. I squeal, almost toppling forwards, but Shiloh's still there and he puts his hand on my shoulder to steady me. I shrink away from the physical contact but I'm glad, I'm glad he was there.

The chariot moves forward and I look down, reaching up to adjust my nose one last time.

Then we have the attention of the Capitol. I nervously shuffle my feet on the bottom of the chariot and I absolutely, resolutely refuse to look at the Capitol citizens. I can't bring my head up, I can't meet their gazes. I cannot show my face. I feel my pulse race and my head starts to spin.

They are cheering for us, the applause is mostly halfhearted but the screams are still extremely loud and incredibly frightening. I want to disappear and never show up again in Panem.

Shiloh's shaking beside me, terrified, but at least he can hold his head up. When the shouts of the people increase, I think he's done something crazy, but then I realize that District Nine has emerged. They're not watching me so closely anymore.

We pull to a stop at the end of the stadium and I freeze, only able to hear the pounding of the blood in my ears. They may not be watching but I'm still in the center of attention, I'm still visible to all. Me and my false nose. I gulp and glance around as carefully as I can for some way out.

There! A door, positioned on the left side of the District Six chariot and the 'train conductors' who ride it. I shift my feet to the edge of our chariot, and as the District Twelve tributes in their bulky pieces-of-coal costumes rumble down the center path, I run, holding the skirt of my dress with both hands.

_I just need to get out of here_.

Some of the other tributes glance oddly at me as I dash for the door, but it doesn't seem like the Capitol citizens are paying attention at all. I'm passing the Eleven tributes and their leafy, fruit-tree themed chariot when the Peacekeepers show their faces. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to die. They emerge from the door, my precious escape route, and advance on me. I slide to a halt and freeze. The last chariot stops in its place and the attention starts to turn.

_If they hadn't come out I would have been safely alone by now._ I can only burst into tears as the Peacekeepers take me back to the chariot where Shiloh, confused and concerned, is waiting.

Everyone is watching me. Even as the President comes up to give his greeting speech, I feel like everyone is watching me.

I just want to be alone. I just need to be alone.

But everyone is watching me.

* * *

**POVs have gotten shorter for the Capitol chapters, if you didn't notice. Otherwise this would have been 12000 words long and... yeah no. :)**

**Tell me what you thought! Next chapter: Training. So start making your last predictions for pre-Games alliances!**


	15. If I Think Of A Good Title It'll Go Here

**Days 1 and 2 of training. A line denotes the split between days. Enjoy! :D**

* * *

**DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: INEZ CARMEN**

My eyes are still red when I wake up. After the chariot rides, I cried myself to sleep. These Capitol people, raucously calling at us in our stupid chariot costumes like we're simply characters in a story. We're people, can't they see that? I try to tell myself that the Capitol citizens too are human, but it's hard to believe. They don't act like people, they act like creatures, fancy, lazy things that only care about blood, food, and fashion.

Maybe Isadora's wild behavior isn't so bad.

Here, I'm an object. Something to be betted on, something to be amused by. And I hate it. I actually, really _hate_ it. The Capitol is the most immoral place.

And so last night I cried myself to sleep. All I wish is to be back home, waking up late and rushing to help my mother make pancakes… I even want Isadora to waltz in the front door, hung over, and immediately snatch up all my parents' attention.

I pull myself out of bed and stretch, trying to summon the courage and spirit to go through the day. It's training, the first real interactions between the tributes. There were a few conversations last night, but I didn't participate. Now we have to go and learn how to kill and survive and meet the kids we have to fight against. That is, if we live long enough to do battle.

Do they really expect me to kill someone?

I rub my eyes and glance around the beautiful room. At the foot of my bed an Avox has laid out the training uniform- a three-quarter-sleeved black jumpsuit with blue stripes down the arms and sides. A '10' is printed on the right shoulder of the uniform and when I pick it up there's the number again, but bigger, on the back. I go into the bathroom to change and pull my long dark hair into a ponytail. The suit isn't skin tight but I still find it uncomfortable.

Tugging at the material, I exit my room and go to the main area of the district floor. An Avox girl is standing right outside of my room; she's probably the one that delivered the training uniform. "Thank you," I whisper to her. She reacts with surprise to my kindness. Poor girl.

"Hey, Inez!" Aedan waves wildly from the breakfast table, jumping up and managing to spray crumbs of food from his mouth as he greets me. I try not to roll my eyes as I wave back. He's so immature and silly, almost as wild as my sister but not as careless with his actions.

But he's nice, and he's all I have left of home.

I take a seat at the table between Aedan and our mentor, Mose Blacock. He's not from Ten, we haven't had a victor yet; he's a historian from the Capitol. If anyone here is human, Mose is. He understands that the Hunger Games are punishment, not entertainment. He tries to keep us alive.

"Good morning, Miss Carmen," he says. I smile weakly at him and turn to the food. The breakfasts have lots of light pastries and fruits and really, the food here is delicious, I cannot deny that. If only we could have it at home… "Are you prepared to begin training today?" I sigh. This is exactly what I didn't want to focus on. I already lost more than an hour of sleep fretting over _training_ last night.

"Yes, sir." I go back to choosing my food, but I've lost my appetite.

"And you, Aedan?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess!" the boy says, pausing between huge bites. He laughs and shakes the dark blonde hair out of his eyes before gulping down another piece of food.

"Have either of you thought about allies yet?" Now our Capitol escort, reserved old Alpha Omega, speaks. I push my plate away from me, thoroughly queasy now.

"Yeah, of course! I won't go it alone, who would want to die alone?" Aedan pipes up.

"I don't want to have any allies," I whisper, "Getting attached would just hurt." Aedan looks ashamed at his response now. "Don't feel bad, we all have our opinions." He brightens immediately.

"Well now!" Mose slides his fork onto his plate with a clatter, "It's just about time to go down to the Training Center! Inez, good timing, a few more minutes of sleep and we would have had to send an Avox to wake you up." I smile grimly and stand, readying myself to meet the others.

The elevator ride is unnerving, but I'm getting used to it. "So, you'll probably be some of the first ones there," Alpha reminds us, "Watch the others, and don't get yourselves in trouble. I want a victor this years! No enemies, you hear?" Aedan nods vigorously; I focus on not getting sick.

We are indeed the first ones in the Training Center. The stations are all set up, and Avoxes line the edges of the vast room. A balcony for the Gamemakers is ornately decorated and already full of food. The trainer woman stands in the center of the area and beckons to us as we enter. I march over to her; Aedan follows behind me but he's entranced by all the stations.

"District Ten?" the woman asks.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You two, stay near me. You're not allowed to go near the stations until everyone is here and I explain the Training Center rules." Aedan and I nod.

Aedan glances expectantly at me, like he wants to talk, but I don't meet his eyes. I don't want to talk to my foolish district partner. I don't want to get attached to anyone. The other tributes start arriving, at last.

As District Four enters, Aedan pokes me in the side and then motions to the Four boy's earring. "I could wear that better," he jokes. I can't help but laugh. So much for not getting attached.

I wipe the smile off my face and turn to the training lady. Killer or not, I need to try and learn how to survive.

**DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: MELODY LARK**

Andras and I are among the last districts to arrive at the Training Center. I distance myself from my district partner as we gravitate towards a woman standing in the middle of the floor. Andras is dangerous and too different for me to be comfortable around him. He's made it clear that he isn't here for the same reasons as the rest of us.

The lady waits until the last pathetic lower-district tribute has entered the group before beginning her speech. "I am Kiriel, moderator of the Training Center. These stations are open to all of you, and over the three days of training I advise you to visit as many as possible. Weapons are popular, but remember that cold, thirst, and infection can kill just as easily, if not easier, than a blade." I roll my eyes. Why bother with survival skills if you can kill everyone else before you need to worry about them? "There will be some required stations: the Gauntlet obstacle course and the edible plants test, for example. You will be called to the station when it is time. Do not engage in combat with the other tributes, there are trainers for that purpose. Now go." With that, everyone scatters.

Districts One, Two, and Four quickly gather in a tight circle next to the maces. I put on a sweet smile and glance at my allies. The One girl is pretty but seems weaker than the rest, well aside from the flippant Four boy. I write them off my threats list. Andras is powerful, of course, and the One boy looks strong as well. Four girl, Sawyer, seems just as dangerous as Andras if not more so.

Too bad they'll all die in a few days.

"What are we doing?" I defer to Sawyer. In a few days I'll drop the act, but now I am Melody. I am kind. I am not a commander. I can feel Andras staring furiously at my back, but I ignore him. Sawyer smirks at the boy as well.

"Let's figure out who's who," Four girl suggests, "If we're to be allies, we'll need to know names. Sawyer Aurora, District Four." We nod. She's taken over the position of leader quickly and there seems to be no dissent. Andras sulks, though.

"Cal McCullin, Four!" the childish boy says. He grins at us and I cringe. He's strong enough, and being in a trained district has earned him a spot in this alliance, but ugh, he does us no good.

"Desire Blanchard, District One," the pretty girl says. She has blonde hair and blue-gray eyes, the perfect combination. I shift a step closer to her. Out of all my allies, she will be the one to get 'close' to- ditzy and pretty. An easy target while not compromising my ideals.

"Melody Lark, Two."

"Hey, hey, hey, why are you even here?" Sawyer interrogates me as soon as I speak, "You're barely bigger than a bug, and way too nice."

I fake-pout. "Come on, I'm strong! I've trained since I was a kid! This is my year, all right?" Sawyer rolls her eyes.

"Ainsley Jett, One." The eighteen-year-old is dark-skinned. I frown at that, but he'll be a strong ally. He'll be useful for keeping the other tributes intimidated.

We glance at Andras, waiting for his introduction, but he doesn't comply.

"Come on, Pretty Boy," Sawyer snaps. Is she not convinced by his submission?

"I don't feel the need to announce myself," he begins loftily, "if I don't plan on staying in this alliance."

"Wanna say that again?" Sawyer growls.

Andras sneers. "Sure. I'm leaving. You're all the same kind of person that hated me at home in Two, so why should I ally with you in the Games? I can get my own alliance, no thanks to you. Good riddance, losers." With that, my district partner leaves the Pack.

Sawyer gapes after him, but pulls herself together quickly. "Guess you don't want second-in-command, drama queen!" she calls. Andras does not show any signs of hearing her. The girl turns back to us. "We're strong without him. We can find someone else if we want six again, so keep an eye out for other strong tributes. It's not like we need intelligence or looks to replace him, he wasn't much of either."

She's bluffing there. We all know Andras is smart and, true, good looking. But he's just another threat to kill off now. He signed his own death warrant. It may be bad form to kill your district partner, but if it comes down to it I would love to give Andras Fey a long, torturous death.

"In that case… Ainsley."

"What, Four?"

"You're strong. Second in command." Our leader holds out her hand and Ainsley shakes it after a moment of hesitation. Desire looks like someone's put a sour smell beneath her nose, but I don't care. I don't want them to notice me. Yet. And Calder- Cal- doesn't give a crap either. Because he is weak.

"So, training," Desire says, "I know I'm a prodigy on the running track and with a bow. What can you do, Four?"

"Everything you can do and more, _Desire_." Sawyer's reply is blunt.

"I can use a spear, because I went spearfishing all the time at home. It was gnarly," Cal pipes up.

Sawyer pats him on the head. "Good boy." I giggle, getting our leader's attention. "What about you, Mels?"

"Swords, mainly," I offer lamely. It's true, but of course I can kill with anything because killing is good and important no matter what weapon is used. Sawyer nods.

"I spent my training learning survival skills and mixed weaponry in equal parts," Ainsley gives his piece in a deep, rough voice. I shoot him a quick glance. We've all done basic survival skills, but going further? Weapons are much more satisfying.

"Well, then, let's go to long range. I want to see how good we actually are with bows," Sawyer sneers at Desire as she gives orders.

**DISTRICT EIGHT MALE: SHILOH TYNE**

_If a plant has shiny leaves and milky sap, what should you do with it?_

I bite my lip and adjust the sleeves of my uniform. I remember seeing this in the manual. I'm sure of it. But what did I read about shiny leaves and milky sap? Um… um…

You… should… stay away! That's it! Plants with milky sap and shiny leaves are most likely unsafe for consumption. I grin and enter the answer, finishing the edible plants test. The screen on the little tablet flashes, restarting the test. I leave the station and relinquish my seat to the next tribute in line, the girl from Six. She smiles at me, but I quickly look down and hurry away.

Visca finished the test a few minutes before I did, and I consider going over to her, but she wouldn't talk or anything, so I don't. We won't be allies- she didn't want any and right now I don't have any either so, what's the point? I glance at the noseless girl and end up doing a double take- the girl from Seven is talking to her! What is this? Alyx Faith speaks happily, but Visca keeps her distance and shakes her head at something. Alyx shrugs and turns away.

Visca had an offer for an alliance?

I push it out of my head and look around. Most of the stations are filling up again, but some of the weapons areas are empty. People took the advice about survival skills to heart. We've got three days of training- I can make it to those stations by then.

I amble over to the nearest station, tugging on the three-quarter sleeves of my training uniform. The trainer sees me coming and has already called judgment on me by the time I figure out what the area is- whips. The man has chosen a weapon for me to work with already and hands it to me promptly- a long braided leather strip with a metal tip at the end.

"Have you ever worked with whips before?" I shake my head in response. With a theatrical sigh, the trainer shows me the motions to make and has me flick my hand in the air about a hundred times before he says, "I think that's close enough," and actually hands me the whip. I gulp, shift my feet, and snap my wrist through the air. The long weapon flops across the ground.

"Um, I guess I need to try again," I try to play off the failure, but the trainer gives me a disdainful look and I feel myself start to blush. I try several more times, to no avail, until I finally flick my wrist right and get a sloppy _snap._

The trainer nods. "Again." Encouraged, I try again, and this time, get a sharp crack! from the whip. I jump back, startled but pleased.

"Hey, that was nice!" I fumble the whip handle and it ends up falling on the floor.

I turn to face the person behind me- Aedan Arthur, the boy from District Ten. He's smiling at me and even bends down to pick up the whip. "Um, th-thanks."

"Don't mention it. Have you ever used a whip before?" I shake my head. "You aren't too bad! I know about whips, using them in Ten and all. I didn't like them, though, they hurt the horses." I allow a small smile. This kid seems nice enough. He's what, sixteen? A year older than me. "So what's your name? I'm Aedan."

"Shiloh, Shiloh Tyne. District Eight."

"It's nice to meet you, Shiloh!"

I nod and hand the whip back to the trainer. As I do so, I see that the sleeves of the training outfit have gotten pulled up my arms and the scars on the underside of my forearms are visible. I have a moment of panic and tug the sleeves farther down my arms. I can't let anyone see them, not these kids who I haven't really met and will be trying to kill me in a few days. I turn away from Aedan and rush to the camouflage station. Maybe painting something will calm me down, even though I favor sketching.

The boy from Ten bounds after me. "Hey, Shiloh, wait up!" He actually is interested in talking to me? I'm almost too pointedly charmed by the fact to remember to stop until I get to the station. Aedan follows me all the way there. "I was thinking, maybe we could be allies?"

"Allies, really? Me? With you?" He might as well have asked me to marry him, that's how surprised I am.

"Yeah, sure! You're great, and we could be friends. Until, you know…"

"Um…" Friends? Really? In the Games?

But, an ally…

"Of course, if you don't want to, that's fine. I'm sure there's someone else I could ask."

I grab Aedan's arm, still careful not to let my sleeve come up again. "No! It's great. I- I'd love to be your ally, Aedan."

He grins crazily. "Great! Great, this is fantastic. Is it all right with you if I get the girl from Six, too? Noalee? She seems all right as well."

"Sure, whatever," I pick up a tray of earth-toned paints as Aedan goes to talk to the girl. Their conversation is animated, and once I see Aedan motion back to me. I manage a shy smile.

Two allies. Me, old Shy-Low, with allies. People to be with, to talk to- and possibly die with.

How could I have turned it down, though? How could I have turned down someone who has so nice to me?

And with them by my side, I won't have to cut once during the Games.

* * *

**DISTRICT FIVE MALE: ELMO ACOBA**

Kiriel releases us after mentioning that the second day of training's required station will be the Gauntlet- the huge obstacle course that takes up a good fourth of the Training Center floor space. Without a backwards glance I move off to the fire-starting station. I spent all my time yesterday there and plan to spend hours there again today.

The woman who runs the station has bright pink eyes that widen when she sees me approaching again. I grin toothily and settle myself in with a pile of tinder and some larger sticks. Yesterday I relaxed with flint and steel, but I figure if I might not have that with me in the Games- they let me keep my lighter but dismantled the flint inside it so it no longer functions- I should learn how to manage an old-fashioned fire.

I start with the bottom piece of wood, a rough sheet of bark. A few bits of tinder on top of that, and the stick twirled stiffly on the brace to start the fire itself.

Nothing.

I rub the stick as hard as I can on the bottom piece, but not a spark.

I scream and snap the stick across my leg. The trainer and several of the other tributes glance nervously at me. I grin at them, widening my eyes to better display the eyeliner there, until they turn away.

Picking up another stick, I begin again. This time, I control myself and try for a bit longer. At last, a spark catches in the light tinder and the flames begin to lick up onto the wood. I carefully pile small, thin twigs on top to feed the fire, increasing the fuel in size until I'm using sticks as thick as my finger. Then I stop feeding it and lay on my stomach. Resting my chin on one hand, I wiggle my other hand over the fire, teasing the flames with my fingers.

Move fast and you don't get burned.

Footsteps break my train of thought and I glance up, annoyed, at the perpetrators. One of them is my district partner, Marlee. Shouldn't she know by now that you should not interrupt me and my fire? I snarl, but then I see who is with her. The trained boy, from Two, Andras. Curious. Everyone noticed yesterday that he had split from the other trained tributes- Careers- but now it looks like he's started his own alliance. Maybe they're going to fight the Careers. Anti-Careers, maybe? I sit up and listen to their conversation. They've seen me but they don't seem to care.

"So, you want me in your little separate alliance?" Marlee asks, sounding suspicious.

"I don't see what that's hard to understand, but yes."

"Why didn't you join the other trained tributes?"

"They're idiots and I wouldn't be able to stand that alliance for more than a day without killing them off."

"Okay, fine, but why me? I'm not strong. Don't you want strong? You'll be a target. You'll have to fight that alliance."

"You ran at the reaping. You tried to escape. That was good, Stark. I want fighters, not Capitol loving lapdogs."

I keep an eye on them. It would be something wonderful to be in one of the power alliances- the Careers foremost, but Andras Fey and Marlee Stark will be a dangerous group as well, and they will find others, I'm sure.

They don't talk to me at all. I seethe a little on the inside. I'm fourteen, but why would that be important? Is it because I look different? Do they think I'm too much of a wild card?

I don't know, but does it matter? Everything is simply life or death now.

I roll back on my stomach and sweep my fingers over my precious fire again. If they don't want me, the Career pack might. They could need someone clever like me. Especially now that one of their major players deserted the group.

I leave the fire burning and go the weight-lifting section where the Careers are. They're serious, trying to show off and do as much as possible, but still comradely enough to converse with each other while they do so. The girl from Four and the boy from One lead the group in their actions. The pretty girl from One- her name is Desire, ironically enough- is lifting the least weight of them all, but she is giving such mean looks to Sawyer Aurora that I know that her physical strength (or lack thereof) has been pointed out. I smirk.

I lift a heavy spiked ball from the weights wall; it's equal to the amount that Desire Blanchard is carrying and practicing with. I feel like I'm about to topple beneath its weight, but if I can impress the Career pack with it, so be it.

I walk right past them holding the weight to a line measured out on the floor. Carefully hoisting the thing to my shoulder level, I hurl it as far as I can. The resounding crash gets the attention I want, and five pairs of eyes turn to me. I puff my chest out proudly.

Sawyer smirks and laughs at me. Turning crimson underneath my freckles, dark red hair, and eyeliner, I glance at the weight. It's barely gone four feet. That's nothing! They think I'm worthless now!

They will pay for daring to mock Elmo Acoba. They will. I promise, they will. I retreat from the five of them and move back to my fire. It's all I can do to keep myself from taking a burning branch and torching as much of the Training Center as I can. But then again, I have plenty of time to do things like that in the Arena.

I wave my fingers through the flames. The twisting, lovely, flickering flames. They are the spirits that will listen to me and love me and I love them. And if I move quickly, I won't get burned.

**DISTRICT ELEVEN FEMALE: LYDIA FERN**

"All tributes please report to the Gauntlet for the required station time," Kiriel calls out from across the Training Center. I look up from the knot I'm attempting to tie and begin to make my way over to the giant obstacle course. I'm actually terrified. I've climbed plenty of trees, but not nets that stretch thirty feet in the air. I can jump across stepping stones, but what about platforms high off the ground? I can scramble up boulders, but can I make it over a wooden wall with tiny handholds?

The twenty-four of us line up nervously. The aggressive, arrogant trained tributes line up first, jostling the rest of the tributes to get the prime spots. We don't fight back, but they shove anyway. They even push each other around. Eventually, the girl from Four takes the first spot and the pair from One are behind her.

"There are two paths, someone step up beside her!" Kiriel commands. The quiet girl from Two- she may be quiet but she's dangerous, just like the rest, I'm sure of it- steps up and assumes a ready position. "Names and districts?"

"Sawyer Aurora, Four."

"Melody Lark, Two." Melody Lark, such a nice name.

I bite my lip and fidget as the pair enters the Gauntlet. We can see everything that happens in the obstacle course and the two girls _fly_ through it. Avoxes follow along nearby in case of injury.

I don't want to watch, it'll only serve to make me more nervous. I look at the tributes around me. Behind me is the girl from Three, who looks strict and a little boring. But the boy from Nine is standing in front of me, and I'm more interested in talking with him. I want to ally with the younger kids.

Earlier today I had an offer from the girl from Seven, Alyx. She was very friendly and kind, and she said that she wanted to make a larger alliance. At that point it was just her and the girl from Nine, Rhain. They were nice enough, they would be good people, but they were… hyper. Or at least Alyx was. Rhain was shy, reserved, antisocial. I don't know, they just weren't the people I wanted to be with.

So I declined. Here's my chance to have the alliance I want.

"Hi!" I say brightly, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. He whirls around, in fear maybe? Oh, don't be like that, kid. "I'm Lydia."

"Knox." He quirks one side of his mouth upwards in a smile. His black-framed glasses and coppery skin remind me of a kid I knew from Eleven, Logan, and I grin at the memory. Both of them were quiet, too.

"How are you doing, Knox?"

"I dunno, really. Fine at the moment. Still a bit in shock," I know he's young, thirteen maybe?, but he speaks maturely, if shyly. I sort of want to hug him but that would be more than a little bit awkward. We just introduced ourselves. "You?"

"All right. Same. This is all pretty scary, right?"

Knox nods quickly. "It's the scariest thing ever." His eyes go all dark and sad and then I can't resist hugging him. He freezes up and I giggle a little bit, my breath ruffling his hair.

"It's all right. Hey, you know what would make it less scary?" I see Alyx and Rhain going through the Gauntlet. Together. They're together. Allies. Even when Rhain can't make it up the tall net and when Alyx falls off the rock wall and has to be assisted by Avoxes to get to the next section, they stay near each other.

"Not being here?" he says wryly.

"Well, right," I smile, "But aside from that. Having an ally."

"Wait. Are you asking me to ally with you? You do realize that we're going to be in a fight to the death, right?"

I nod. Of course I know that, I'm not stupid. "The scary thing is, I don't expect to win either. I'll try, of course, but it's not even possible to be optimistic about this really. But why should I have to die alone? We can protect each other, keep each other sane. Stay alone, and you'll have too much time to yourself. Too much time to lose yourself. And companionship is better for that. We don't have to be friends, but allies? Please?" I'm almost desperate. I'd really love to ally with Knox. I don't ever want to be alone in the Games.

"All right then, I'll ally with you." I squeal a little bit and shuffle my feet around in a tiny dance.

"Next two tributes!" Kiriel calls. I snap to attention again. We're almost at the front of the line. Almost in the Gauntlet, and I barely know what to expect. I look at the tributes ahead of us, counting pairs. Knox and I will end up going at the same time, good.

The boys from Two and Six are going now. I've seen them, together with the girl from Five, walking together from station to station. Aside from the trained tributes, the Careers, this seems to be the strongest alliance. I watch as they enter the course. Andras moves quickly, Kalen not quite as fast, but they are efficient. Then Marlee goes against the boy from Seven, Barke- he's pretty handsome.

"Next two tributes!"

I gulp, feeling my hands start to tremble, and step forward alongside Knox. Kiriel sets a timer on the course. "Go!"

I leap onto the first platform, my legs already wobbling. It's a far jump from section to section, but I make them with several inches to spare each time. Glancing back, I see that Knox has more trouble with it, so I pause to let him catch up before I move onto the climbing net. I start climbing up the center path, but as I go I lean to one side. "Whoa! AHH!" The net flips me over and all of a sudden I'm upside down.

I giggle after my heart stops pumping so quickly. I'm stuck, with no safe way to make it over the net and onto the handhold wall, so I wait for the Avoxes to gather beneath me before letting go. "Good luck, Knox!" I call out to the boy still working on getting up his net.

**DISTRICT THREE MALE: PHI PANDIT**

I drop off the last section of the Gauntlet and the Avox there hits a button telling Moderator Kiriel that I have finished the obstacle course. I leer at the Avox before scanning the other stations to work at. There's weapons, but I know enough about fighting and even killing, thanks to Clementine, that I won't need organized weapons in the arena. I can use them, too, but why bother if I won't need them? There's also survival skills, which are boring.

If the Games are going to be anything like training, they will be easy to win and I will be very bored with them.

I literally have no plans for what to do now. So I sit down and do absolutely nothing. The others always stare at me. Why would I want to draw their attention now by doing something? Doing nothing is easier and, frankly, more pleasant. I've done nothing but throw my weight around since I arrived in the Capitol. I curl my lips back in a snarl. They all gawk at me like I'm a circus freak- the other tributes, the Capitol citizens, even the Avoxes.

I might stare at them for a change.

There are the Careers, first, foremost, and most carefully watched. They're arrogant, but skilled. Of course, they've got a reputation for sadism and they train. They're called Careers, what do you expect?

I would have joined them if they asked me.

One alliance of three is Shiloh from Eight, Aedan from Ten, and Noalee from Six. They're not really taking anything seriously- or at least the Ten boy isn't. I growl at them. They're worth nothing here. The boy is childish, Shiloh is weak, and Noalee is too young to be any danger.

The other group of three: Andras from Two, the Career defector; Marlee Stark the girl who ran at the reaping; and Kalen Ram. I smirk at the boy from Six. I was watching the recap of the reapings when he jumped out at me- he stole a coin from the escort as the District Six ceremony was ending.

There's the two girls from Seven and Nine, friendly and a little melancholy. No threat. I didn't even bother with their names. Just now, too, the girl from Eleven and the boy from Nine started going everywhere as a pair.

No one is quite sure about the Twelve pair. Sometimes they stick together, sometimes they work alone. Friends, maybe, but perhaps allies as well. I don't really care, of course, they'll be dead soon.

I might be dead as well, but why die when a life of criminal immunity and riches awaits just a few weeks away?

"Phi, right?"

I lash out as I jump to my feet, but a strong hand catches my wrist and stops me cold. I have killed a man, but I've just been blocked like it was the easiest thing in the world.

It's the boy from Two, the one who left the Careers. I tear my hand from his grasp and glare at him. "I'm Phi. What do you want?"

"I was wondering if you would like to join our Pack."

"Your pack? Wasn't that just the trained tributes' thing?" I goad him. He works his jaw in anger and I smirk.

"I am trained. The others are stupid, so I left."

"Right, right," I dismiss him like I knew that all along.

"So, alliance or not. If you don't join you'll be on our threat list, and therefore a target."

"Me? A target? I'm honored. But why do you want me, Pretty Boy? And I suggest you don't threaten me again, or I'll lodge your own fingers so far down your throat that they won't be able to get them back out during the autopsy."

"Don't call me 'Pretty Boy', got it? And as for our reasoning- you're strong. We need more strength, and we think you'd be the best man for the job. And you volunteered- and just mouthed off to me- so that shows some spirit. Spirit is good. Even rebellious spirit." He motions back to the other members of his alliance, Marlee and Kalen.

"One girl? What's your idea there, do you want her all to yourself? I'm hideous and Kalen's not much of a looker either- Pretty Boy."

"I have a boyfriend. Shut up." I move one step back and scrutinize Andras. Did he just tell me…? Yeah.

Okay. If he's not going to judge my ugly face, I won't judge his sexuality. "I'll join your group, Pretty Boy." Andras nods curtly at my response. _But don't think for one second that means I will have mercy on you_.

* * *

**Up next is Day Three of Training, Private Sessions, and scores! (an awkward split maybe but the POVs here were not working when I split them into 3 days so :/)**

_**What did you think about the alliances?**_

_**Any predictions for the scores, or the future of the alliances?**_

**Please tell me what you thought!**


	16. There's Snark Everywhere

**Training Day Three, Private Gamemaker Sessions, and Training Scores! A line shows the change of days. :)  
You are all wonderful and I love you all so much! XD Enjoy this chapter! It may seem slower than some of the others, since I focused on character interactions.**

* * *

**DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE: DAMIEN SUMMERS**

The last day of training. For the majority of us, the last chance to learn something that could save our lives. It's kind of exciting. I never thought my life could hold this much tension, but here I am, freaking out. At least in Eleven I worked in the fields and grew strong from that, and fighting with my brother gave me, well, more experience than at least half of the kids who will be in the arena with me.

I push away the remnants of my breakfast and glance over at my district partner, Lydia. How is it that she can babble on and on about that little boy from Nine, Knox, and still not say anything of value? Our escort obviously wants to hear strategy, plans, not random conversations and moments between the allies.

At least the hippie kid has someone to watch her back- or whatever Knox will actually do in the arena before he dies. I'm still alone. No one has asked me to join them, and even though I approached the Seven boy about an alliance yesterday he turned me down. I growl a little to myself at the thought. I'm not weak, I'm not useless. I just don't want to be… alone. That's it.

Before Lydia can launch into another story about her new friend, I stand up quickly. "I'm heading down to the Training Center, see you later, suckers!" Lydia waves good-bye to me, but I don't respond.

I jab the elevator button and wait impatiently for the door to slide open. All the while, I can feel Lydia's eyes on me, along with those of our escort, Juvenal Price. "Impetuous," the Capitol man sniffs, "That's a good way to get killed in the Games." A red flush creeps over my face, I feel the heat of it on my cheeks, and the door won't open.

"At least I care about training," I mutter to myself, poking at the button again, trying to speed the machine up (of course, my efforts are to no avail). I groan and roll my eyes just as the door clicks and begins to slide open. I leap inside as soon as the aperture is large enough to fit my body through and slam the 'door close' button.

"Well, someone's in a rush!" A voice sounds behind me and I whirl around, startled. It's the girl from Seven, leaning back against the wall of the elevator and smiling at me.

"What are you doing, coming up in the elevator? You aren't supposed to go to other tributes' floors and you go down to get to the Center, not up." Is she rebellious or something? Or just stupid?

The girl shrugs. "I think someone from the lower floors thought it would be funny to press all the buttons? When I got on, all the floors above Seven were marked." She giggles. "Imagine how funny it was for the floors who weren't expecting the elevator to arrive! At least for Eight, Nine, and Ten, I stood off to the side so it wouldn't look like I was creeping on anyone."

I have to snort at this. "That's stupid. Who would push all the buttons and not bother seeing what happens?"

"Just a prankster. I dunno," Seven shrugs, "So, what's your name?"

"You first."

"Fine, I'm Alyx."

"Damien. District Eleven."

Alyx brightens. "Hey! My ally, Rhain from Nine, her district partner is allied with your district partner!"

She's stretching the connections, but whatever. The elevator beeps and the door slides open, showing us the Twelve floor briefly (no one is in our line of sight, though) before I hit the 'door close' button again and we start to descend, at last, to the Training Center area. Alyx tries to keep some semblance of a conversation up, but I don't feel like talking and she quickly catches on.

To my surprise- and chagrin- the trained tributes are all there by the time I step out of the elevator. Districts Twelve, Six, Five, and Eight also have arrived. They've already started training, too.

Kiriel swoops down on Alyx and me. "Free training day today. Just remember, the private Gamemaker sessions are tomorrow. Think about your strategy and focus on those last-minute skills. The smallest thing could save a life in the Games." I shrug off the last part of her advice and head straight for the swords. I found one the first day of training that worked for me- a gladius, it's called, and it reminds me of some of the cutting tools I used in Eleven to take down hardy plants. It slices and stabs, and while it's hard for me to imagine slicing or stabbing another person, I can easily see that it would be easy with a gladius.

The Career pack is there, training exactly where I wanted to be. Great. But since I don't have anywhere else to go, I walk over and pick up the short sword. I can hear snickers from the pack of trained tributes behind me, but I shrug them off and march to a dummy.

I wail away at the tough fabric, scraping off bits of it and scratching through on some occasions. I'm getting bored, though, after doing this for most of two days already. What else? I know enough about plants, living in Eleven and all. With a final, powerful blow, I lodge the foot-and-a-half sword into the training dummy's 'heart'.

"Hey, Eleven!" I whirl around at the arrogant voice. It belongs to District Four, Sawyer.

"What?"

"Join us."

"What?"

"You heard me. You get in our group, are you up for it?"

"Yeah, you think I'm weak?" Sawyer simply smirks and gestures to the gladius buried in the dummy. "But why me?"

"You're not weak. We've got smarts, we've got skills, but with Andras gone we've been thinking about recruiting more muscle. Our first choice was Seven, but he's not a real fighter."

I'll take what I can get. "I'm in."

**DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: ERIS IRA**

"No, no, this knot needs to double back over the top of the trigger and then meet the noose!" the snares trainer complains and finally snatches the length of cord from my hands. I sigh. I'm good with knots, just apparently not in the right order.

After she hands me back a perfectly tied snare and tells me to set it up on a small frame, I cringe a little. I wasn't paying attention for this part while she explained it the first time. I glance at the frame. Well, the noose bit should lay flat on the ground… and the trigger needs to stretch out so something could trip it… and then to keep the small game trapped it needs to pull up off the ground! I loop the rope around the frame so that- hopefully- it would be able to get me some food in the arena.

The trainer seems surprised. "Not conventional, you obviously weren't listening to me earlier, but with some luck it could prove successful." I grin. "Although it would only catch small animals. A trap in the arena should be able to hold a human." My smile fades quickly. I'm not interested in catching humans!

"Well… um… thanks for stuff," I say to the woman and leave the snares station- fast. As I retreat to the middle of the Training Center, I notice that a pair of Avoxes are opening up the lunch area. That's much better. I don't want to worry about learning more survival skills right now. Food is so much less stressful than knives or snares.

"Hey, Kyra!" I call over to my district partner, who is focusing intensely on painting her arm at the camouflage station. When she hears her name, she looks around frantically, and I laugh. Finally she sees me and I motion to the open doors.

"On my way!" Kyra calls back, handing her paintbrush to the man managing her station. She doesn't bother to clean off her arm before joining me for a meal. I look at the paint curiously. It matches the color of tree bark, but I still think I would notice her if she was hiding. I'm really good at hide and seek.

Just as we are going through the doors, I'm pushed to the ground and get the wind knocked out of me. Kyra makes a small noise in the back of her throat and steps back, and the Careers pass us, laughing and shoving each other. One of them- the boy from Eleven, so they let him join- sneers at me as I lay gasping on the ground. Scowling, I slowly stand up and brush off my training uniform. Just because I'm young, and they're strong, they think they've got the right to treat me like that. We're all competitors here. Last year District Twelve had a tribute in the top three, and none of the Careers made it that far. I have a chance, don't I?

Kyra makes her way to a table as far away from the Careers as possible and I follow. "Are you all right, Eris?"

"Not really, but I'll be fine," I wheeze back. She seems concerned still but I ignore that and grab some food. The smell envelopes me and I end up stuffing my face with some of the seasoned- chicken, maybe?- before I even realize I've taken a bite.

"I can't believe you can even eat that much without getting sick, I'm so nervous I can barely take a single bite!" my district partner teases.

"C'mon, Kyra, eat!" I laugh back, but thinking about why she's nervous only makes me queasy. Around us, other tributes are filing in. The loners show up first. The girl from Ten sits a few tables away from us, the boy from Seven sits slightly closer to the Careers, and the girl from Eight with no nose takes a plate of food and retreats of a corner of the room. Other scatter as well, and then the alliances start to show up. The big, more dangerous group. The girls from Seven and Nine. The girl from Eleven and the boy from Nine.

The last group to enter the lunchroom is the alliance of three. They come and sit by Kyra and me. Seeing as the biggest open spaces are by us or the Careers, it makes sense.

"Hey, Twelves!" the boy from Ten grins at us. Kyra smiles at him. "I'm Aedan, this is Shiloh, and this is Noalee." He points first to himself, then the other boy, then to the girl.

"I'm Eris, and this is Kyra."

"Hey, are you an alliance too?" Noalee asks.

Kyra and I are quick to correct her. "No! No, we're just district partners," I explain.

"It's easier than being allies." Kyra adds, "We can be nice to each other but there's not the attachment that comes with allies."

Aedan shrugs. "I'd rather have someone by my side all the way," he slings his arms across Shiloh and Noalee's shoulders, "These kiddos are great!" Shiloh smiles at the sentiment.

"Hey, you're barely older than us!" Noalee swats the Ten boy's hand in mock indignation.

"Still older!" Aedan cries, chuckling. The trio take up seats beside us and I shift a little uncomfortably. They're friendly people but in this situation I'm not looking for friends. What if I have to fight these people and end up getting killed myself because I can't bring myself to hurt them?

What am I talking about? I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone, not really. Would I?

I glance at Kyra. Could I actually end a life? Her life?

I'm just a thirteen-year-old boy from District Twelve. No Twelver, much less a young one, has ever won the Games. What sets me apart? Or am I destined to be a forgotten, crooked-fingered corpse?

Maybe I need to start getting used to the idea of death.

Because what hope is there for Eris Ira?

* * *

**DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: MARLEE STARK**

I scoot out of the elevator as fast as I can to distance myself from Elmo. At least this time I didn't press all the elevator buttons- standing with my district partner for that long would have given me nightmares. That kid is just creepy. Creepy. With his _makeup_ and his _fire_ I don't even trust myself to sleep at night for fear that he'll try and kill me before the Games even begin. All he does is whine about how nobody wants him as an ally, and I quote, "not even the Careers".

I deliberately told Andras to leave him out of our alliance, because one psychopath is enough for me, thanks.

Today is the day of the private sessions with the Gamemakers. I'm freaking out more than a little… not only do I have 'demonstrate' what I've learned over three days, but they'll basically grade us on our performance, and sponsors pay a lot of attention to these stupid scores.

I see Andras already at the tables, leaning back and looking calm. How is he so relaxed? Ugh, District Two. Trained. And, knowing the boy, he probably doesn't care anyway. I shrug and head over to him. An arrogant trained tribute is a much better ally than an unstable pyromaniac in my book. At least I think I can trust Andras to not kill me right away. At least, he'd leave me alive long enough that I could maybe kill him first.

Better him than me.

Nodding in greeting, I plop down beside the boy. He acknowledges me in return, but says nothing. Fine by me, I don't need a conversation to keep myself occupied. I still have to decide what I'm gonna do in this stupid private session.

Andras turns to me. "So what are you gonna do in this stupid private session?"

I roll my eyes. That's creepy (and probably why we ended up as allies). "Probably just screw things up. Gimme a minute to think, Pretty Boy!"

"What will it take to get you guys to stop calling me that?" Andras, halfheartedly irritated, groans. Personally, I think it's hilarious that Phi's nickname stuck.

"Our deaths." A voice from behind makes me jump, but it's just Kalen. The ginger boy smirks at our surprise and then takes a seat across from Andras.

"Hey," I greet the boy from Six, running a nervous hand through my frizzy dark hair. None of my allies can be trusted- but if Phi is unstable, Kalen is shifty. He looks like the kind of person that would disappear at the precise moment you actually needed him for something.

"So what _are_ you going to do, Marlee? Dance? Sing? Strip?" Andras rolls his eyes at Kalen's question, but I snort. That sounds like something my sister might try.

"Maybe something with knives, or a javelin, or something. Weaponry. And we all know that if anyone in this alliance could strip and get a high training score, it would be Andras."

"Shut up." The Two boy actually blushes.

"Oh yeah, you're spoken for," Kalen snarks to our leader. Luckily, Andras smiles. Then, just so I can hear, "You could still get a high score with that, though." I bite my lip to hide my grin.

"So, what are you guys planning on doing? If I shared, you have to as well!"

"Not stripping!" Kalen cries gleefully, "But, like you, weaponry."

"Same," declares Andras forcefully. With that, the conversation fizzles out and we have nothing more to say. Kalen begins tapping his foot anxiously. There are still a few districts missing, so we won't be starting for a while yet. We can't really discuss arena strategy without Phi, either, even though that's the only important thing left to talk about. Terrific.

At last, the elevator door slides open and Phi along with his district partner Cathodra step out. The girl marches away to sit by herself; Phi shuffles over to us. "I don't suppose you would have cared if I had shown up or not," he's even more mean-spirited than normal, great.

"You're an ally, we'd care if you disappeared," I might not get along with the hideous boy, but Andras is determined to keep his precious alliance on good terms with each other until the other big threats are gone. He chose us, whether it be for strength, spirit, or intelligence, and he has some sort of plan- that much I'm sure of. Kalen seems indifferent to all of us, and Phi will be the one to watch every second of every day.

"Sure," Phi replies, but he sits beside Kalen and doesn't glare at us continually.

"The arena, then," Andras starts right off with strategy plans, glancing around to make sure no other tributes are listening in.

"Yeah, Pretty Boy, go on," Phi taunts. Andras shoots him a quick glare but he's too focused on his new idea to get angry like he could. We saw him get angry during training, talking about something like the cruelty of the people in his district. That was in reference to the way he and his boyfriend were treated, but mainly it was ironic, because Andras too is cruel.

"We will fight. The Cornucopia has the best supplies, and we'll need those supplies. This alliance is for taking out the threats. In battle, if you have to choose a target, choose the biggest threat that you feel like you can take down." Here he glances- possibly even subconsciously- at the Careers. "Work together. Strike fast. Look for me at the countdown and I'll tell you where to meet afterward. After the initial fight, we will work out a day-to-day plan."

"That was fast. How long have you been planning this scheme?" Kalen seems suspicious.

"Since I chose you as my allies."

"Who goes for supplies?" I query.

"Everyone get at least one pack and two weapons."

I share a glance with Kalen. Andras has this worked out perfectly. He seems to want us to kill as many others as we can. This is not what I signed up for, but is there another choice? Of my allies, Andras is the one least likely to stab me in the back; he values his leadership. But he has something more than just winning in mind.

And I might twist that to my advantage.

**DISTRICT SIX FEMALE: NOALEE TYLER**

They've started calling tributes in to the Training Center. Ainsley Jett, one of the Careers, has already left. My heart beats faster and louder. Shiloh seems equally nervous, but Aedan shakes it off.

"Come on, guys, calm down, it's just a number!"

"Sponsors must really like numbers, then," Shiloh whispers.

"Aw, Shi, you'll be fine. You really know your plant stuff and… stuff. And you can use a whip!"

"I got one good crack out of that stupid thing, one. And I wouldn't ever be able to hit another person with it. Aedan, I'm hopeless."

"Not as long as we're here. We're an alliance! Right, Noalee!"

"Right." If I die in these Games, this is the closest I'll get to joining a gang, and I am entirely fine with that. Ace may have liked the gangs of District Six, but I don't think I would. "We're an alliance, we'll keep each other safe."

I fidget more as Desire Blanchard is called into the Training Center. With a flip of her blonde hair, she's gone, and I wish I could be that confident.

"Guys, don't freak out, just relax." I turn to Aedan to tell him something that would warrant a mouth full of soap if my mother ever heard it, but he pipes up again as I open my mouth. "Please?" And the sixteen-year-old boy makes these big puppy eyes and just stares at me and I burst out laughing. Aedan's pout turns into a mischievous grin. Shiloh laughs softly and props his arms up on the table, resting his chin in his hands. I catch a glimpse of red, raised lines on the underside of his forearms, almost hidden by the sleeves of his jumpsuit.

I can't stop my curiosity. "Shiloh, what's that?" He gives me a startled, confused look until I reach over and grab his arm- and then his face shatters. As I turn his arms up to show the lines I realize that they're scars, scars that come from one thing, and Shiloh's freaking out. I release his wrists and he pulls his arms close to him, pressing the scars against his chest, and then he gives me a deep, hurt look. The sort of look you would get from a kicked puppy. "I… I'm sorry."

Even Aedan's face is dark with worry and a little bit of anger. Shiloh's flushing crimson and there are scared tears in his eyes. "Hey," Aedan says, "Hey, it's fine. You're fine. Let it go, both of you. Stop."

And I try, and Shiloh tries, but it's tense now. "Oh come on you've made it serious now, Noalee!" Aedan covers his face with his hands.

I whirl around and snap at him. "Aedan, it's always been serious! Don't you realize where you are? Stop making all of this a joke, all right? Just stop! Nothing's a joke now, so would you please stop acting that way!" Shiloh's still looking down with his hands folded and now Aedan turns red as well.

"I'm sorry, Noalee. Sorry. But this is just how it works for me, all right? I'm not a serious person." His breath catches. "But I'll try. For you guys."

"Don't stop being lighthearted, though," Shiloh says softly, "That's just as important as being serious." I nod in hesitant agreement.

Aedan's lips quirk in a half-smile, and all is quiet for a few moments.

"Sawyer Aurora, District Four!" The older girl at the table near to us leaves her spot and goes to the Training Center room.

"So, do we want to find out a plan for the arena?" I suggest, trying my best to alleviate some of the tension.

"What would we do, really? Do we want to fight? Could we fight? Could we kill?" Aedan's nervous now.

"I would fight," I whisper. To keep myself alive… and these boys alive, to an extent. At least I've had some experience with conflict.

Shiloh bites his lip and shrugs.

"I could get us some supplies," I think aloud, "We could meet away from the bloodbath."

"If you go, I'll go with you," Aedan says bravely.

"No, I'll go alone. It's easier to defend one person. Wait for me nearby so if you need to you can help, but I'll go alone." I'm the youngest member of this alliance, but if I'm the toughest, so be it. No one protests my plan, and we don't have anything else to say.

"Noalee Tyler, District Six!" I take a deep breath and stand up. Time to go get that stupid number.

"You can do this, Noa!" Aedan jumps up and cheers.

"Good luck!" Shiloh calls. I turn back, smile at them, and then go into the huge training room.

The Gamemakers are set up in a little balcony area with lots of comfortable chairs and what's probably more food than I've eaten in my entire lifetime. I walk up to the area right beneath them and call out, "Noalee Tyler, District Six! And, can I have some food?"

This garners a laugh from the Gamemakers and someone throws a slice of meat down to the floor. It falls to the ground three feet in front of me. "Well, thanks."

"You may begin, Miss Tyler." I nod and go to the rack of spears and staves. There was one short staff that I found that I worked well with. There! I snatch it up and take it over to the line of dummies. Some of them are brand new, like they've been replaced during the private sessions before mine. Yikes.

I grab the staff with both hands and take a wide stance. Wait… working with the dummies won't show much. Staves work best when you're fighting a person.

"Um, can I have someone to fight with?"

A door opens and a huge, tough trainer steps out and chooses a staff of his own.

Maybe the dummy would have been more convenient after all.

**DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: RHAIN MILLER**

Alyx and I sit together at the tables, waiting anxiously- just as nervously as the others, I'm sure- for the private Gamemaker sessions. I keep tapping my hands on the table and twirling my hair, and every so often Alyx presses my hand and just gives me a look that says 'stop it'. And I hold still for a few moments, but never very long because this is nerve-wracking.

"Rhain, are you having the urge to get up and start dancing because, I swear, your feet are trying to do a jig!" Alyx laughs at me, but I can tell she's getting irritated.

"Sorry," I apologize and plant my feet firmly on the ground. However, in a few moments they're tapping away again, and I'm gnawing on the inside of my cheek as well. Terrific.

"Barke St. Claire, District Seven." Alyx's district partner goes to his private session.

"If he weren't my district partner in the Hunger Games, I might date him," Alyx giggles to me.

I fret. "It's almost your turn to go."

"Yeah, and then you can fidget all you like!" Alyx laughs good-naturedly.

"I'd rather you didn't go at all," I mumble.

"It'll be all right, Rhain, really. I bet you'll get a higher score than me. You're smart and everything, you have Hope. You have someone to fight for. Who am I? A little rich girl who just wants to stay alive." She spits the last line out bitterly.

"You're lucky," I slump over and bury my head in my arms.

Alyx reaches over, rubbing my shoulder and smoothing down my silvery-blond hair. "But you'll live."

I snap my head back up. True, I plan on living, but seeing Alyx give up like that… I won't tolerate it. "You've got just as much of a chance as I do. And you deserve it, you're a wonderful person!" Alyx smiles at me gratefully, but I don't think she's changed her stance at all.

"Alyx Faith, District Seven." The girl stands, sighs, and begins to walk to the heavy doors.

"You can do this, Alyx!" I call after her.

"And you can too, do it for Hope!" she replies before disappearing into the big training room. I smile after her.

Eventually the boy from Eight is called in and I know Alyx has finished her session. I find myself drumming on the tables again and the blood is pounding in my ears. I'm not used to people anymore, it's been a full year since I had a real conversation with anyone aside from Robin, Robin's mom, Hope, and now Alyx Faith of District Seven.

I'm not the only one with anxiety problems right now, just look at that poor girl from Eight, the one with the fake nose. I'm surprised she hasn't fully broken down yet, actually.

Even she makes it through the door without collapsing when they call her name. I just close my eyes and take deep breaths and try to keep myself from throwing up everywhere.

"Rhain Miller, District Nine." At last, it's my turn. Alyx's words echo in my mind- _do it for Hope_- and I gulp, standing up straight and entering the training hall. I'm afraid, but I can do this. I can do it for my little girl.

After announcing myself to the Gamemakers, I look around for the swords and knives. I've learned the basics of throwing knives and falchions, so hopefully I can gain a higher score with those. On one display setup I see the short swords and I go for one of those.

For Hope.

I'm filled with a burst of anger and determination and adrenaline, and I attack the first dummy I can reach. I slash and mark and stab, and in my mind the dummy wears the face of Drusus.

For Hope.

With a scream, I bury the blade in the seam at the dummy's neck and the fabric head pops off and falls to the ground. Another face flashes in my mind, and this time it's Alyx's features.

I drop the falchion and gasp, my breath hitching in my throat.

I couldn't kill. I could never kill one of these kids. I'm a mother. How could I hurt another woman's child?

I'm already a monster.

And I cry until the Gamemakers, unimpressed, send me away.

**GAMEMAKER CRISPUS SCELESTIBER**

All the tributes have 'performed' for us. Now we sit, still eating and vomiting and eating some more, with all the data. We are prepared to give scores.

"Remember," I begin, "We will not only be judging on the skills of the tributes, but on the ability of the tribute to give… a good show."

Plinius raises a careful, frightened hand. "How will we know if a tribute will kill?"

"Intuition, boy. Know their psyche. All right, One. Strong tributes."

The trained districts are the easiest to get through- they kill. Always. It's the weaker districts that are difficult.

"The girl from Three?"

"Ugh, a two! There was nothing special!"

"But she's determined, that could prove valuable. Five."

"Four, that's average. She seems tough enough to kill." We give her a four.

"And the boy from Ten?"

"He was talented. Seven." The boy did show extensive knowledge of survival skills, and a certain degree of proficiency with the spear and whip.

"Not much drive- I should say a six." Murmurs of agreement fill the room for a moment before I write down a six. "But what about the boy from Five, with the fire?"

"He was pointless! A three. There was aesthetic flair but no real skill! He just tried to burn things down. He would have breathed fire if the materials were available!"

Our youngest Gamemaker, a nineteen-year-old called Coriolanus, speaks up. "I think he should get an eight. He's unstable. He will kill, for certain. And if you give him a high score, the other dangerous tributes will seek him out for a confrontation."

I smile grimly at the young man. "An eight it is."

The other Gamemakers protest, but I, Crispus Scelestiber, have made my decision.

**DISTRICT ONE MALE: AINSLEY JETT**

I slouch into the soft purple couch as the television clicks on and the eerily grinning face of Octavius Cairns appears on the screen. Next to me, Desire only seems to sit up straighter. Why is she actually invested in the training scores? Why? I groan, and my noise blocks out the first few words from the program. Soli shushes me angrily.

"…participated in three days of training! Today, of course, they had the opportunity to show their skills to the Gamemakers in private training sessions, and they were scored according to their performance. Now it's time to see what they received! From District One- Ainsley Jett…" Oh yeah, I will be the first score shown. I like that- people will remember the score, but it won't be so fresh in their minds to make them too interested in me for the interviews. "…with a score of: nine!"

I nod to myself. A nine is good, very good, and a strong score. An acceptable number for the second-in-command of the trained tributes.

"Desire Blanchard with a score of eight!" The girl sitting beside me spazzes and one of her blond curls flicks out and brushes against my cheek, making me twitch. The girl goes into a histrionic hissy fit and I roll my eyes. She's going to be whiny for days in the arena.

Andras matches my score, no surprise there, but when sweet, quiet Melody also gets a nine, I'm shocked. She told us she's trained for years, but… wow. She's got some hidden surprises. Wow.

The ugly boy from Three, one of Andras's allies, gets a six. I set him on my list of targets. His district partner is too low to matter. Cal gets a seven, and Desire seems a little less melodramatic. She won't score the lowest of the Pack. Still, she'll be insufferable, and Cal has still done well.

Sawyer Aurora proves her worth as leader, scoring a formidable 10. I nod approvingly, but Desire huffs. Now she's really beaten. Her biggest rival scored two points higher than her. I smile a little at the idea of a major catfight. "I can't believe she did that much better than me!" the girl cries.

I might off this chick myself at the rate she's going, district partner or not.

The boy from Five, the whiny one with the eyeliner and fire, scores an eight. I'm shocked, but if I am shocked then Desire is furious. I've never seen her this angry before- and it reminds me that she has actually trained. And that, however she seems inferior among the trained tributes, she is still powerful.

And apparently, so is the little pyro from Five. His district partner scores a six, like her ally from Three. I make a face. Are they all going to be this way? Will I have to make a 'major threat' list of twenty-three?

The boy from Six then scores a one. Desire laughs, but I groan. The only people who score ones are the little kids who freak out and faint or the rebellious- and possibly unstable- tributes. This kid isn't the type to faint during the session, so I'll have to mark him a threat. His district partner earns a solid five. Not a big danger, but maybe a fun fight.

Seven earns a six for the boy and a five for the girl, but I know neither of them is too interested in killing anyone. Maybe, maybe not a threat. I won't know until they're provoked.

District Eight isn't anything special. The girl with no nose manages a two. "Exceeded expectations," Desire mutters, and I nod. The boy gets a four- nothing special.

Surprisingly, the quiet girl from Nine pulls out a five. There's a sort of determination to her that probably upped her score by a point. The little boy with her scores a three, nothing to consider a threat there.

The boy from Ten snags a six, which catches me by surprise, but I can laugh it off without feeling too nervous about him taking me down later on. He's positively _kind_ and that never works out for tributes. He'd fight back, but in the end Aedan Arthur will be an easy kill. His district partner, who gets a three, would be even easier.

I lean forward as Damien is announced. It's here that he will show his worth as a member of the Pack- if he scores low, we will have chosen badly; if he scores high, it'll be all right.

He proves himself with an eight, and Desire can't take it anymore. "First the fire boy from Five, and then the fake from Eleven? No fair!" She finally flounces off to her room, leaving me in peace at last. Another three with the little girl, and a four for the boy from Twelve. That's good for his age.

The last score is a three, for Kyra Montgomery. Octavius announces it proudly and then beams at the cameras. "There you have them, Panem, the scores for the tributes of the Eighteenth Annual Hunger Games!"

Soli turns to me after the television clicks off. "Well done, Ainsley! A step up from last year, at least, with Adrian Rain scoring an eight!"

"Don't even mention Desire scoring two points lower than last year's Athena Monroe," I mumble. Soli doesn't take note, but I don't think even she cares to see an even more whiny Desire.

I am proud of my nine, though. A very good score, definitely enough to get me sponsors, but not enough to warrant excessive personal nosiness at the interviews. Sawyer will get that instead. The price of leadership, right?

To stay in the shadows and rise up from behind is much, much more effective. And power is still in my reach.

* * *

**A small cameo for a certain canon character ;)**

**ONE CHAPTER UNTIL THE GAMES GUYS WOW I HAVEN'T EVEN DECIDED BLOODBATHS YET I NEED TO FIGURE THIS OUT**

**Tell me what you thought! XD**


	17. Abandon All Hope

**IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG MY DEAR VULTURES.  
EXAMS SUCK THAT IS ALL XD**

**This chapter is the LAST CAPITOL CHAPTER and it covers everything from the interviews to launch. There's a lot of stuff here :/**

**Every tribute has now received two POVs!**

**Ah yes, disclaimer: I do not own Dante Alighieri's _Divine Comedy_. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

**DISTRICT TWO MALE: ANDRAS FEY**

I scowl at my stylist as I adjust the dark red blazer on my shoulders. It's much too fitted for my tastes, I have enough problems without being forced into a fancy suit. The woman makes a face right back at me and I roll my eyes as she comes over and brushes some tiny speck of dust off of my shoulders. "Andras, I'm sure your mentors and Capitol escort have already explained the importance of this interview!"

"Yeah, only a billion times," I reply sullenly. I know what I'm gonna do, everyone else just needs to lay off.

"Then shape up and cooperate!" The woman gives the crimson tie around my neck one final tug and I choke. "Oh, quit whining." Is she determined to kill me? Probably not, but I bet she's hoping that someone else will. To say the least, I haven't been an easy project in respect to attitude. Too bad for us.

"Where do I go now?" I ask, eager to exit the prep room and get down to the interviews.

"Out the door, to the right, down the stairs to the elevator, and there should be an escort there waiting for you." I hurry out of the room without so much as flipping off my stylist. Out the door, to the right, blah blah blah.

"Whoa!" I skid to a halt at the elevator. The escort that my stylist mentioned is my mentor, Colton Baxter. He's standing in my way right in the middle of the corridor. "What are you doing here?"

"Pleasure to see you too, Andras," he snaps, "Come on, time for interviews. You're late." I remember Colton as one of the more laid-back victors, but he's changed since last year. His little sister died in the top five. That girl scared everyone.

"Not my fault," I mutter, "That stylist chick is obsessed with the tiniest details." Colton sighs and I follow him into the elevator. It's a silent ride to the waiting corridor for the interviews, and Colton doesn't even try to give me any last word of advice as I march out of the elevator. Two Peacekeepers escort me to my spot in line, right behind Melody, dressed in a coral gown. She turns and, seeing me, smiles faintly. I sneer back, earning myself an eye roll from the girl.

Desire and Ainsley notice me as well, but they're cold and don't even acknowledge me. Good, it's not like I wanted to hold a pre-Games conversation with District One. I smirk at the Peacekeepers monitoring the tributes before exhaling, shaking out the sleeves of my jacket, and looking back to the front door of the room.

"Desire Blanchard," a stage assistant takes the One girl through the door and a television screen in the waiting area flicks on. Octavius Cairn is already grinning like a shark onstage, and there's Desire, flouncing up in her short, metallic purple dress.

I can hear the Capitol screaming through the door, let alone on the screen.

Desire smiles, giggles, and takes her seat. I snort in disgust and turn away from the television. Even zoned out I can hear bits of the interview. "So, Desire, how are you enjoying the Capitol?"

"It's lovely, Octavius, lovely." I can imagine her winking. "Almost as lovely as me!" The audience laughs.

"And you are very beautiful, Miss Blanchard!"

"Oh, call me Desire, it fits so much better!"

Ainsley goes up next. He's reserved and quiet, but he's one of the Pack- dangerous in any fight. I'm almost afraid of him, but then I remember that I have a reason I'm here and they're only here for the fame.

"Next up: Melody Lark of District Two!" I turn my attention back to the screen as my district partner steps up for her interview. "Melody, you're nothing like the normal volunteer. Will you give us some insight as to your reasoning?"

"I may not look as strong as the others, but that doesn't mean I'm here for different reasons. I want to win. I want the honor and the power, the wealth." Melody speaks simply and coldly. I blanch. See, she's not so sweet. Maybe weaker than the rest of her allies, but not an easy kill.

"Andras Fey," the stagehand calls my name. Running a hand through my curly dark blond hair, I smirk and follow the woman without hesitation. I'm barely backstage when Melody brushes past, just having finished her interview.

"And now for Melody's district partner, the charismatic Andras Fey!" I step onstage confidently, nodding brusquely to the crowd and garnering screams of delight. Good. Octavius hurries over to shake my hand and lead me to the interview seats at center stage. I've barely sat down when:

"Marry me, Andras!" It's a young woman in the audience, unknowingly setting up my whole plan.

"Sorry, I'm taken," I smirk, receiving some raucous laughs, some groans, and a lot of gushing adoration from the Capitol citizens.

Octavius takes advantage. "Who's the lucky girl, Andras?"

"What girl? My _boyfriend_ is Grant." It takes a second, but when the ripple of realization runs through the people, it's priceless. Then they react. First there are some whoops and cheers; I shake my head and grin at a faint 'marry me!', this time from a man. The Capitol erupts in opinions. I can a hear a few hisses from the crowd, those are the people I'd like to knock unconscious like the idiots back in Two. There are the supporters, calling out my name now, which seem to be the majority of the Capitol.

The only thing I like about this place- they don't care who you decide to love. Well, I take that back. They don't care until you're one of their celebrities.

To his credit, Octavius pulls himself together fairly quickly. "What made you want to leave your relationship behind?"

I spread my arms, gesturing to the whole Capitol. "What better place to prove yourself?"

**DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: ALYX FAITH**

I fidget as the girl from Three steps off the stage and her district partner steps forward. I grimace reflexively at his bowed legs, squashed nose, and huge lopsided shoulders, then gulp and shake away my repulsion. Phi Pandit deserves the respect of any other person and I _will_ not belittle him for his appearance.

Then again, it's not just his physical features that are odd. For the interviews his stylist has given him a bearskin cloak with the head and claws still attached. Already Phi has overshadowed Cathodra, who wasn't much of a personality anyway. I listened carefully to her interview but I didn't really hear anything.

Phi's very scary. I think again to avoid him to the best of my abilities in the arena. I don't even want to hear his interview. He doesn't have much to say, he prefers to sit sullenly and give short, blunt answers, so luckily his time onstage is over quickly. The elegant girl from Four struts to the interview seat next; Octavius rises to press a kiss to her hand. "So, Miss Aurora, how have you been?"

"Perfectly fine, Octavius, I volunteered for this. I knew what to expect!" She laughs, a bright sound that doesn't match her bloodlust at all, and flips her perfect brunette hair over her shoulder. Chills run down my spine. How is a killer girl so pretty on the outside and so horrid within?

"Yes, your time here has been eventful. Tell us, how does it feel to hold the highest score from the private training sessions and be the leader of your alliance?"

"Wonderful, Octavius. It's been wonderful. Everyone knows that I'm the best here and-" she winks at the crowd, "-everyone should sponsor me!"

As the interviews continue, tears prick at the back of my eyes. How can I expect to survive with charming, deadly girls and guys like Sawyer and Andras in the arena? I felt tough when I got my score, it was better than I had been expecting, but Sawyer doubled my five. I was happy to have an alliance with Rhain, even though the other girls I wanted turned me down, but we're not powerful like the Careers or the other strong alliance. I could be dead in a day, Rhain could be dead in a day, and… and… and… my breath hitches in my throat and the boy from Six, Kalen, turns around and gives me a cruel glare. I make a face when he moves back, but I have to bite my lip to keep it from wobbling.

Calder from Four finishes up his interview, leaving the audience roaring in laughter. Marlee Stark steps up, and I can tell by the smirk on her face that she's going to be sarcastic just like she is in training. Aside from Andras, nobody has gotten really serious yet. I could be serious. I have a big secret that I could share. People would remember me, maybe even sponsor me, if I told them that I was not simply Rich Alyx Faith, but also the girl who runs through the forests, Tough Alyx. I gnaw on my lower lip as Elmo Acoba explains the wonders of fire onscreen and Octavius looks on amusedly.

Too close. Too close. Too close. My feet start to shuffle and my heart begins to pound louder and louder. I told my mentor that I would just be myself. Sweet and unassuming and good. But could it save my life if I ruined my image? If I told on myself?

What if I died and my parents had only now found out the truth? And I would have no chance to apologize. Noalee Tyler talks about her boyfriend Hayden and discusses the story behind her choppy haircut. "Yeah, I do it myself. It's easier to maintain when I'm hanging out around the town."

"Isn't your father the Mayor?"

"Yeah, but I still hang out wherever."

_Does she even know how lucky she is?_

Her district partner has some explaining to do. "Kalen! I'm sure we all have one question on our minds. What did you do in training to get that one? You're certainly capable of more." I bet they won't ask Visca Martin why she didn't score higher than a two. Ugh.

"Scores aren't important. I have better things to devote my time to. Other work to do."

"Ah," Octavius prompts, "So what did you do in your private session?" He waggles his dyed-orange eyebrows.

"Told lies." The Gamemakers are in an uproar. No one is supposed to tell this! I giggle, then quickly slap a hand over my mouth. "I thought I did pretty good, but apparently that 'skill' isn't good enough." Kalen shrugs.

I'm brought backstage, my heart pounding and hands trembling. Kalen and Octavius still converse, but I no longer hear them through a screen around system. I hear their voices with my own ears. "Thank you for your time, Kalen, and good luck tomorrow!"

"I'll need luck for more than just tomorrow, but I can rely on myself to get through," Kalen sniffs before exiting. I toy with the edge of my uncomfortably tight red dress until I hear my name called. My throat tightens. Wobbling out to the stage on red high heels, I smile wanly at the crowd.

Why are they cheering so loud? They don't know me.

"Welcome, Alyx Faith!"

"Hi."

"So, Alyx, anything you'd like to say to these lovely folks in the audience?" He gestures to the thousands of multicolored figures.

I wave sweetly at them. "Your city is beautiful! It's all been such a magical time and I hope I can return here!" Technically I'm not lying.

"Alyx, we've heard so much about tributes' time in the Capitol. Tell us about your life at home!"

"Well, I have wonderful parents and we all love each other and I have one good friend who's the best! Seven's a good place to be, there's a lot of green and it always smells nice in the springtime."

The Capitol makes a general noise of content with my answer. "And what do you do for fun?"

My cheeks burn; my hands are clammy and slick with sweat. "I…I like to help people, and learning things is nice as well. Sometimes I will work with my parents to bake or craft or even just tell stories. And when I get rebellious…" I choke on the words caught in my throat.

"Yes?"

"…I like… to… climb the tallest trees I can find!" The Capitol murmurs softly. I'm not terrible, at least.

**DISTRICT TEN MALE: AEDAN ARTHUR**

By the time the boy from Seven is finishing his interview, I'm already wincing and shifting nervously. District Eight is next. Octavius knows it too, and he's trying to prepare himself for a disaster. "And from the lovely District Eight, please welcome Visca Martin!"

Shiloh told me, when Noalee was gone for her private session, that Visca had almost had a nervous breakdown when their mentor even mentioned the interviews. I don't want to see this poor girl shatter in front of a whole country. It was heart-rending enough when she tried to run at the chariot rides.

I clench and unclench my hands nervously as the dark-haired, petite girl approaches Octavius. He kindly escorts her to the interview chair, but there's an almost predatory look in his eyes, like he wants to see how far he can push her and how much he can get out of her before she snaps. "Visca, dear, have you been adjusting well to the Capitol?" She shakes her head 'no'. "All right. Maybe you need some advice from the audience. Everyone, what's the best thing about our shining city? What should Visca try to make her happier?"

A roar of noise makes everyone backstage clutch their ears for the volume. Ouch. I can only imagine poor Visca, drowned by the noise and her own fear. After the Capitol people die down, Octavius tries to probe into Visca's home life and history. She doesn't answer anything that isn't a yes or no question. Then the idiot goes and does it. "Are there any particular memories you'd like to share with us, dear?"

I can see it coming before Octavius and I get angry. If I can see that as a trigger, why can't he? Aren't the Capitol people supposed to be all advanced? Visca glances at the man and I can see her trembling on the cameras. It's a panic attack, and the Capitolites in the wings have to escort her off. Shiloh comes on early. He's got his arms covered, which I'm glad for, and he doesn't break down. There's a quiet strength that I haven't seen before.

That's my ally. Stronger than he seems.

He even manages to say that he was bullied at home. I squeeze my eyes shut to hide the watery redness that I'm sure is visible. I wouldn't be able to come out and say something like that, it's too painful. I can only make jokes and be funny and let other people laugh at me. That's the point of Aedan Arthur. I always skirt around being deep because that makes me even more vulnerable and vulnerable sucks. And Shiloh is braver than I ever will be.

The girl from Nine is really sad, too, talking about her baby girl at home and how much she wants to see her again. By the end of her three minutes, I'm sure most of the Capitol is sniffling into handkerchiefs. Her district partner, Knox, mentions his grandma and he's melancholy.

I wish he weren't here. He's only thirteen.

They call Inez to the wings. "Good luck," I whisper to her as she steps forward. Turning around for a second to give me a small smile, she heads up for her interview. I keep my attention on the screen now. Inez looks nice in her long black dress- she's wearing an awful lot of silver jewelry though.

All of the questions Octavius asks her, she answers politely. The Capitol doesn't seem impressed at all, but Inez does a good job to me. She's Inez, she's not showing off or pretending or even trying to seem more interesting. She's proper, quiet, kind Inez Carmen. Even if the Capitol wants her to be more interesting, I'd rather have good old Inez than some fancy, exaggerated girl that's lying to get attention and sponsors.

As soon as I am called onstage, they forget about my district partner.

"Heya, Capitol!" I wave and call out as I take my seat. I get a giant scream in return.

"So, Aedan, you had quite a memorable reaping for the non-volunteer! Want to give us the story?"

"I didn't want to let it scare me. So I was funny. Right? Was I funny?" The crowd hollers affirmation.

"No, no, no!" Octavius laughs, "We want to hear your thoughts, your feelings as you were chosen!"

"Oh. Well, here's something I bet you didn't know. I didn't feel anything at the time. I am actually an alien programmed to learn about human culture and this mission means that I am to observe human emotion and not participate in it!" I wiggle my fingers in the air and pull a funny face, making everyone erupt in laughter again. Octavius and I banter for another minute or so before the timer goes off and I exit the stage.

There's no one at the other side waiting for me, but there's a camera screen, so I watch the last two districts. Lydia Fern is sweet and makes me smile, but the boy from Eleven praises the Capitol, saying it's a lot better than his home. I blanch. Who could hate their home so much that the Hunger Games seem an improvement?

Twelve doesn't stand out, but they are both young kids. None of us should be here. How are we even supposed to kill each other? I cover my face with my hands as I step into the elevator to go back up to the tenth floor. I can't kill a girl with a child, or a thirteen year old, or Shiloh or Noalee. I can't. But if I want to live, do I have to?

**DISTRICT SIX MALE: KALEN RAM**

Noalee walks a little ahead of me on our way back to the Tribute Tower. I glower from behind, mulling over those stupid interviews and the sheer idiocy of the Capitol. All they ever do is get entertainment and eat and vomit so they can eat more. There are a few show runners, but the others are worthless, weak beasts that only love us because our deaths will amuse them. And I am ashamed because my father is now one of them. He lives here, 'dealing' with the Capitolites and gaining wealth by cheating his clients.

Our girl-man escort stops abruptly as two Peacekeepers round the corner and halt. "District Six?" they ask.

"Of course!" Varro answers indignantly, "Don't you recognize a future victor when you see one?" One of the Peacekeepers snorts in derision.

"Kalen Ram?" the other turns her gaze on me.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"You have a guest."

Varro's face is turning the same shade of pink as his fuzzy sweater. "It's the night before launch! Tributes cannot have visitors, this is unheard of!"

The Peacekeeper woman shrugs. "He holds some sway, then, because there is an _authorized_ visitor for Kalen Ram in the vestibule of the Tribute Tower. Mr. Ram, come with us." I reluctantly follow the white-uniformed officials, but it's good to escape Varro.

Who would want to see me? Nobody in the Capitol cares about me enough to arrange a meeting like this. Nobody. I am just a corpse, a probably-scripted death for their enjoyment.

The Peacekeeper woman opens the doors to the entry area and I see my father waiting for me. I'm actually surprised. I expected more anger. I want anger.

It hits me like a wave, and I am glad. What is this lazy jerk doing here? I don't want him here, I never wanted to see him ever again after he left me on my own. I was fine alone thanks to _his _teachings of self-reliance. I don't need this beast.

"Kalen."

"What do you want?"

His eyes harden and narrow, glinting like jewels. "My only child is going into the Hunger Games, I had to say something to you."

"You didn't. I never wanted to see you."

He sneers. "Sure."

"I've never touched the money you gave me." This time he's surprised. "Like you said, self-reliance."

Devon Ram pulls himself together. "That's my boy." Reaching out, he tries to put his hand on my shoulder, but I pull back before he can make contact. He's being far too sentimental.

"You left me alone to continue your shady business, what actually made you want to visit me here?" I spit out, "Tell me!" My father is a lazy, corrupt con man. He wouldn't say goodbye out of genuine sorrow or love; I don't think he's ever felt those emotions.

"I work with the elite here in the Capitol, and I know how to get a man drunk. I've learned things about the arena. It would be to our mutual benefit if you won the Games, and you take after me- you're sly enough to get what you want."

"I'm nothing like you!"

"Kalen, Kalen, Kalen, you're everything like me." Devon Ram pats my red hair like one would greet a dog. I ball my hands into fists and let my rage simmer- I'll need it to win the Games. And when I win, my father will not have anything. That is sure.

"I'm _not!_ I am not like you! You're a cheat and a lazy idiot, you never worked hard for anything but took it all from others! I work! I work hard and only take what I need and I got myself a life WITHOUT YOUR FILTHY MONEY!"

"Do you want a hint or not, boy?"

With anger burning in my stomach, I narrow my eyes. What's the catch? "Yes."

"What books have you read lately?"

I laugh. "Books? What use do I have for books with my life?"

The emotion that sparks in Devon Ram's eyes is not sorrow, grief, or disappointment. It's simple displeasure. Leaning in close to me, he whispers, "You are worth nothing then. You may as well step from your platform before the Games even begin."

"Love you too, _Father._" I turn around, striding through the door and moving right to the elevator. No looking back, not for this dirty, cheap copy of a man.

The District Six floor is eerily quiet. Usually Varro is running around humming songs or Noalee is chattering away or I'm arguing with one or even both of them. Now everything is silent. Quietly tiptoeing over to my district partner's room, I can hear soft sniffles from inside. Noa's crying in there; my lip curls into a sneer. She's weak now. I blame it on her careless allies. She was strong before, well respected in our district. Now she's bloodbath fodder. Sad. I would have liked to consider her a friend. Andras, Phi, and Marlee are strong-good allies- but Noalee is loyal.

Yawning, I slip into my room and collapse on the soft bed. One more day before the storm breaks and we're all fighting for our lives. I plan on living, sure, and it'll be for me. Just me. I could die, of course, but my mind shies away from those thoughts.

Kalen Ram wins. Kalen Ram wins for himself.

**DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: SAWYER AURORA**

I pull the neon hood a little farther over my face, but it only makes the ridiculously curled turquoise wig slide more to the side and I grimace. The disguise is horrible, but so are the Capitol fashions. And who ever thought neon colors would be the way to blend in? It's atrocious.

This is mostly my fault. Like any teenage girl, I procrastinate. It would have been easier to slip away and get the tasks for Daddy done the first night, or on one of the evenings of the training days. Now everything's tense and wild and it's a lot harder to get around unnoticed. People know me now.

First time that popularity has been a problem, too.

Sadly enough for the 'advanced' and 'high-tech' Capitol, their security was much too easy to figure out and disable. I walked right out of the Tribute Tower.

I wade through crowds of celebrating Capitol citizens, cheering and dancing along with them, to reach the front door of Cassius Marullus's mansion. It's impressive, but I smirk and simply ring the doorbell. I have a task to complete for Daddy's business; there's no time to gawk. Besides, I'm too sophisticated to gush over architecture. There are finer things in life.

I hear a buzzer sound inside the house when I press the doorbell. It's harder to fake the Capitol disguise now, I'm getting so focused on my goal.

"Who is it?"

"Miss Aurora, with your special treat for the night!" I trill in my best Capitol imitation. Some of the people who overhear me smirk. No doubt they think I'm Cassius Marullus's hooker for the night.

Idiots, but hey, it's a cover.

"Come in." Marullus will recognize the name Aurora as both a tribute and the man he hired to clear his name from the criminal records.

The door opens a tiny bit and I step briskly inside the huge house. It's ornate, with ornate carvings in the walls inlaid with silver and- cliché but beautiful- crystal chandeliers. I nod appreciatively before turning to the servant girl who's admitted me. Not an Avox- yet- but still inferior.

"Message for Mr. Marullus about his recent transaction with Aurora Credit Businesses." That's all it takes for her to nod and escort me to an upstairs room. Cassius Marullus sits, waiting, eating, and watching television. He seems annoyed when I enter.

"Who are you?"

"Sawyer Aurora." I revel in the power that my name now holds. Marullus turns sharply to face me, so I push back the bright yellow hood and blue wig to show my tan skin and dark hair.

"Sawyer Aurora, daughter of…"

"Yes, that's me. Business partner, too." I smile dazzlingly.

"What are you here for?"

"I could ask you that, there's a celebration on your doorstep!"

He frowns. "Never been one for crowds. You never know when someone could come up behind and stab you. Now, your announcement?"

"Cassius Marullus, I am pleased to tell that, thanks to the Aurora Credit Businesses, your criminal record has been erased."

"And anything I owe you?"

"Will be added to the 'official' bill. Pleasure doing business with you, sir." I give a slight curtsy and turn to leave. "And your back door is…?" Marullus motions for his servant girl to show me out. She nods meekly and does so. Setting my wig and hood back in place, I disappear from the house into the brightly lit night. One down, two to go. At least the second will be easy. I make my way around the lively party to the neighbor's mail collection center. I wrote out a letter to Aurelius Casca, since he lives too far from the Tribute Tower for me to meet him in person. The letter sounds professional, but there's the code Daddy uses with his clients hidden in it, a tiny page shrunk to the size of a period and set on a sticky dot. It's perfect for transferring information, and Daddy makes sure that his clients have the proper technology for finding this tiny sticker on a professional note.

I drop the envelope in the mail collection center and slip back into the celebrating throngs, letting the throbbing flow of the Capitol nightlife carry me back to the Tribute Tower. The back alley garbage door is my best entry this time, and there's an Avox working there. He turns around once for a bag of trash and I take my chance, diving into the entrance.

_Clang!_ My high-heeled boot hits the edge of the doorframe and the Avox spins around. I'm in full view.

Luckily for me, Avoxes have no tongues. Smirking, I hold my finger up to my lips and tear off the hoodie and wig, tossing them into the man's face. He chokes and splutters, and I dash to the elevator.

I have one more thing I need to finish for the business. Unfortunately, the Games have to come before that, but they shouldn't be that hard. Kill a few kids, get my allies to do the same, kill them, and I'll be back. Nothing special. I'm the strongest one here, it won't be hard. There are threats, yes, and I will be careful, but I will be able to take them out. I am the strongest one here.

Back on my floor, Hortia accosts me. "Where were you, young lady? It's the night before the Games! What were you thinking? We can't afford to lose our potential victor!"

I roll my eyes. "I was screwing your mom, Hortia, now go clean your wig or something." From the table in the corner, Cal snorts in laughter; I give him a quick nod.

"Really though, you shouldn't have done anything that stupid," says Mags quietly from where she's sitting cross-legged on the couch. She's got a paperclip in her hands and she's twisting it into a fish hook.

"It was important," I shrug it off, still refusing to give any hint to my actions.

"So is staying alive," Mags counters, "For both of you."

This girl is my age, but she thinks she's so much better than me because I'm not a Victor yet. How much more wrong could Mags be? I make a face at her and flounce off to my room. If tomorrow's the Games, I want to wake up on the right side of the bed.

**DISTRICT THREE FEMALE: CATHODRA STEINMETZ**

I wake up screaming.

I was dead. I died.

But… I'm alive. The sweaty sheets are tangled around my legs, my breathing is ragged, and my throat hurts, but I'm alive.

It was just another nightmare. Only a dream, only a dream.

These sheets are really soft. I never noticed how soft they are before- wait. I'm not at home. I'm still in the stupid Capitol. And today… my dreams could come true. Wow, such a positive sentiment gone sour. Gotta love the Hunger Games.

I glance over at the small clock and see nothing but green blinky lights on the display; I'm still too bleary to focus. There's sun filtering through the curtains, so they must expect us to wake up. I groan, but the sound comes out more like a strangled whimper.

Struggling to motivate myself out of the bed and to my possible death, I end up rolling onto the ground and lying there like a dead fish.

I want to be strong, but I'm terrified. Scared like a three-year-old separated from their mother. Scared like someone alone on the ocean.

The ocean. I could very well never see an ocean. Not now, when I have to come out alive of twenty-four teenagers to simply survive. I'm eighteen, though, that could give me some sort of advantage. Then again, my training score was barely tolerable and killing? Me, a murderer? It's laughable.

Newt Hillen technically killed someone, though. If he can win, I can win. I stretch on the ground, popping my back.

How can I get up and walk willingly to that hovercraft? To that metal plate? …to the Cornucopia?

Because it's the only dignified option. I will not be seen screaming for mercy and being dragged to the Arena.

"Cathodra, hey! Cathodra, are you awake?" That's Newt. He's 'mentoring' me this year, and Alume Tshi took Phi. I can see why- they don't want to give the little depressed Victor a basket case his first year.

"I'm up. Still alive. Hooray." I can almost _imagine_ Newt shifting awkwardly outside my door.

"We'll be leaving shortly for the hovercrafts, get dressed and try to eat something. Please, okay?"

"Sure, whatever." I pull on the same uniform that they gave us for training. It's easiest to wear and I certainly won't miss it. Grabbing my token, Conrad's old pocketwatch, I shuffle out into the lobby area. Phi is gorging himself, which makes me cringe. His face is smeared with food; this boy is an animal. Alume picks at a serving of soufflé, and Newt doesn't eat at all. Talinda, on the other hand, eats with dainty gusto until she catches my eye.

"Cathodra, dear, you're here! Come now, eat and drink. It's your last meal in the Capitol, after all!" Hmph, that's all the more reason for me to be queasy and avoid eating. I don't want it all coming back up on the hovercraft. To be polite, I accept a croissant and a cup of fruity cordial.

After a quiet meal, Alume pulls some sort of messaging device from her pocket. "Time to go," she announces gruffly. Phi almost leaps up, Talinda only a second behind him, while Newt and I push back our chairs slowly and reluctantly.

We're led by Alume and Talinda to an open area on the roof where there are four hovercrafts waiting.

"Tributes in one, stylists in the other," Newt whispers to me, "They'll prepare you for the arena and make sure you're ready for launch."

"You're not coming?" Newt shakes his head. I'm almost sad. I'll miss the kid, he's been a good person to support me. He may not be too good at teaching stuff, but at least he's nice. "Well… goodbye."

"And the best of luck to you, Cathodra," he smiles sadly.

"Tributes!" Three Peacekeepers escort Phi and me to the gleaming silver hovercraft on the right. The Careers from One and Two are already seated- they must be bringing the tributes district by district. I find the seat marked 3F and sit down. The tributes come aboard in pairs until finally Kyra Montgomery and Eris Ira take their seats and the door closes. A faint whir of engines, and liftoff. My stomach drops like a stone.

Two women in white coats begin to make rounds through the tributes, armed with long syringes. I fidget nervously. What could this be? I ask when they come to me. "Your tracker, dear, now- arm." I offer my left and they jab the needle into it. Inhaling sharply as they inject the tracker, I clench my teeth against the pain.

It's a short ride before the windows black out. My ears are popping horribly, and I fake-yawn several times to try and stop them. When they start making stops and depositing tributes through some sort of immobilizing beam, I'm glad.

It's my turn now, and the light shades my view of the area until I'm at the launch pad- or the slaughter pen, as some call it.

My stylist, aloof as always, offers me a plain, off white jumpsuit with similarly colored undergarments to put on, saying that they're simple enough and the environment should be mild. Matching boots fit for running and fairly grippy, so a variety in terrain should be expected.

"One minute until launch," a calm robotic voice announces, causing me to flinch.

I must be strong.

I am weak, but I must be strong.

I step onto the metal platform, and my stylist nods approvingly. A tinted glass tube slides up around me; my heart rate quickens and I can only hear blood pounding in my ears.

I'm left alone with my fear.

It only takes a few seconds for it to consume me.

I don't know where I am I'm scared I want to go home I want my mommy I don't want to die.

And then the metal plate beneath my feet begins to rise.

I break into the light of the arena.

_Abandon all hope ye who enter here._

* * *

**I actually NEED to go figure out the story from here, though. I know some deaths and stuff but I am grossly ill-prepared :/ THE ARENA IS FANTASTIC YOU WILL LOVE IT.**

**QUESTIONS!**

**Who do you WANT to see dead in the bloodbath? Who do you THINK will die?**

**Any predictions for the arena?**

**And, of course, just tell me what you thought about the chapter overall XD**

**All right, we're almost there! Hopefully I will pull myself together and get the bloodbath (or part one, I'm not sure how I'll format it yet) up by next week :)  
All of these characters have been wonderful, thank you so much for letting me write for them, giving feedback, and even just reading! It's been a pleasure to write these twenty four tributes (and I'm so attached. That may be why I'm having such a hard time choosing bloodbaths...)**

**Please, if your tribute dies in the chapters to come, stick around and see what happens. There are some fun things I have planned :)**

**Happy reading/writing everyone!**


	18. Counting Bodies

**Well now, it's been a while, hasn't it? Ugh. I'm the worst story planner in the world. :/ Sorry. BUT HERE'S THE BLOODBATH WHEN I START KILLING OFF THESE WONDERFUL CHARACTERS WOO XD**

**Thank you so much for bearing with me to this point and I hope you enjoy the 18th Hunger Games!**

* * *

**DISTRICT TWELVE MALE: ERIS IRA**

I'm afraid to open my eyes. The metal plate beneath my feet grates into place with a harsh metallic scrape, but even though everything is still, I refuse to look around right away. I take a deep breath. There's a faint buzzing but I can't tell if it's my ears ringing or something in the arena.

This is it. I'm in the arena. My knees are weak and my breaths shaky, but I force my eyes open anyway.

Black metal. A huge black metal structure, like a giant bull's horn, looms in the center of the arena. The Cornucopia? This is the first year that the horn hasn't been gold. I shudder. I wish it was gold this time too.

There are supplies heaped haphazardly around the base of the black Cornucopia, not spilling into the structure but there are plenty of bags and weapons piled around it. One purple backpack has fallen a little ways away from the rest- maybe I'll run for it?

I tear my gaze away from the supplies- however much I'll need those, I need an escape route just as urgently.

A silver dome with a vaulted ceiling surrounds the visible arena. It's not smoothly rounded, it's shaped in triangles. I learned this shape in geometry class maybe a month ago… ic… ico… icosahedron. Twenty-sided figure. Right. It's like a bowl's been placed over us and then hammered on. The floor is white gravel. Electric lights light up the arena area dimly- so that's the buzzing I heard earlier. There are lots of shadows but I can see everything.

A flash of red catches my attention. There's a curtain on the wall, heavy and big enough to cover the doors of the District Twelve Justice Building. And another, a little farther on. And another, and another, and another. Five curtains, leading to who knows where. The only ways to get out of the dome. I'll go to the one nearest to me, I suppose. As soon as I get that purple backpack.

I shoot a glance at the tributes. Inez from Ten is on my left and Melody from Two is on my right. I can't see Kyra, but there are only a few tributes that are out of my view- blocked by the Cornucopia- so I have a good idea of where she is.

A robotic countdown starts. _Ten_. I shake all the thoughts of Kyra and the other tributes out of my head as the numbers decrease. I have to win this for myself. I am going to be Twelve's first victor, the first thirteen-year-old Victor, and I will go home to my family. Even if it means playing make-believe princesses with Ode for the rest of my life, I will love it and be happy forever, because I'll be home. Not to mention that anywhere is better than here. _Five, four, three, two, one._

Chaos. I bite my tongue to keep from freaking out, but even that split second of hesitation costs me time. Heart wildly pounding, I rush to the backpack, but Visca Martin is already there, false nose skewed on her face. I cringe, reaching to snatch the pack from her hands. She snarls- I back off. The quiet girl's gone feral.

I need that pack. I lunge forward, and Visca's glare changes to fear. I've got one hand on the backpack when my head snaps to the side- a slap from the girl. Face stinging, I shove her down and take away the supplies.

I'm still on the outskirts of the bloodbath, so I easily dart away and head for a curtain. Did I ever see Kyra? No. I glance back once more. There! Over on the other side, almost hidden from view by fighters.

There's already blood on the white gravel.

I nod to Kyra, hoping I'll see her again later. She doesn't see me here, but as I start to turn away a spear flies through the air. Kyra sees _that_ and her eyes open wide. But it's too late. The point punctures my district partner's chest, spraying gore out the other side. Kyra is dead before she hits the ground, and Sawyer Aurora retrieves her lance, grinning down at the corpse.

My head reels, my vision blurs and before I know it I'm screaming and stumbling forward a step, my arms outstretched. She… she… she…!

_Stupid stupid stupid. Have to live, have to run. Get home to Mom and Dad and Ode. Run!_

A figure runs out of the bloodbath; they're coming right at me. I turn and scramble to the red curtain, but my fingers just brush against it before I'm yanked back into the open. "Fail, Twelve, if you hadn't yelled I wouldn't have seen you." It's Damien, from Eleven. He was nicer before he joined the Careers, I think in my frantic daze.

Everything clears up when he smashes the back of my head against the wall of the dome. "Let me go!" I choke out. The back of my head throbs but I can still make it, I can! Damien doesn't look happy, but his grip on me doesn't loosen. I thrash.

Finally, I lash out with my foot and hit him in the groin. He drops me with a howl and starts to double up, but as I start to move again he grits his teeth and grabs me again. Hunching over , Damien forces me to my knees and grabs my chin, slamming me back against the wall. I scream. Over and over, I scream until my voice just doesn't work anymore. Something crunches. The pain goes away and Damien drops me, limping back to the main fight.

I don't want to go, I want to see my family again, and my friend Gala.

This isn't as bad as I thought it would be. It's easy. It doesn't even hurt anymore. I lay still and close my eyes. I guess I won't be going home after all.

And I stop breathing.

**DISTRICT SIX FEMALE: NOALEE TYLER**

I crouch in the Cornucopia, waiting for a gap in the fighting. It's all wild, all crazy. The few gang fights I've seen, it was easy. A few pairs of guys beating the crap out of each other, sometimes using busted bottles for weapons. Once there were knives involved. Here… it's all for blood. There's nobody that would let you go after 'teaching you a lesson'. Everyone wants to kill.

And to think, these same teenagers could hold a civil conversation this morning. I gulp. Humans think they're so special, but what are we? Animals. Nothing more.

I shoulder the two packs I've collected, holding a whip in one hand and a simple hunting dagger in the other. I need to get out of here, fast. I know Shiloh and Aedan are waiting for me right behind one of the red curtains. They'll follow me if I don't find them right away. I just need to get out.

The fighting rages on, mostly the pack of trained tributes striking out at the rest of us, but Kalen's alliance is doing a lot of fighting as well. His alliance leader is fighting the boy from Four, and Kalen's over there near the girl from One.

Elmo Acoba dashes past the opening of the Cornucopia, and I duck down. Did he see me? Did I let my guard down and come out of fighting? He pauses right at the opening just as a gap opens in the fray below. Of course. I bite my tongue to keep from swearing out loud. He doesn't turn and look at me, and I calm down a tiny bit. He charges on, red hair making him visible. Yet no one really takes an interest in him.

With a wild scream, he leaps and catches hold of the girl from Eight, the one with no nose. She screeches right back at him, but she's terrified instead of simply insane. Elmo wraps his fingers around her pale throat and squeezes. She flails in his grasp, but he's lifted her off the ground. There's no way out for Visca.

They are the same age as me. Elmo is a fourteen-year-old murderer now.

I make a run for it, not bothering to watch Elmo finish the job. I feel dirty now, like Visca's blood is on my hands. I can't do this, I just can't do it!

"Hey!" I collide with another girl- District Three- near the wall of the dome. She's got a tan bag of supplies with her and a short sword. Take whatever you can get, I suppose.

Her first response is to jab at me with her blade. I sidestep and swing my knife at her. "Stop it! Just keep going!" I shout desperately. We don't need to fight, there are plenty of other ways to die! I try to scoot past, but Three jabs out again. We're both afraid here, she just strikes out in her fear and I don't. Apparently.

I parry the stroke and slash forward, forcing Three to step back. Instead of just backing up, she ends up slipping and falling on the ground. I move to put the knife at my side, but the older girl panics, probably thinking that I mean to stab her. She throws up a handful of the gravel and rock dust gets in my eyes and mouth. I cough, giving the other girl ample time to stand up and regain her position. She tries to force past me, swinging her sword right at me, but I turn and it lodges in one of my packs. I whirl back around, trying to wrench the blade away, but she's got a strong grip and the sword comes out.

I turn right onto the weapon's edge. The girl runs away, accidentally dragging the sword right along my stomach as she goes. I gasp at the cold metal in my skin. My wound, my fault. I stagger towards a red curtain, arms clamped over my belly. Warm blood oozes down the jumpsuit, turning my entire torso scarlet in the dim electric lights. I collapse.

The blood in my ears is the only sound, breathing is my only action. I lean on the wall, probably dying. I start to cry. It hurts. I don't want to die here, it's too soon. I don't want to die. I don't want to die like this.

Two pairs of hands drag me along the wall to a curtain. "Noa, we've got you, Noa, you'll be all right!" Aedan and Shiloh come into my line of sight, Shiloh biting his lip and Aedan smiling nervously. "Noa, you're doing fine, look, you got supplies. I'm sure there are bandages here somewhere!"

"Guys, where are we?" Not the main arena, the ceiling's much lower.

"It's like a tunnel to somewhere else, there was one curtain that we went through and it brought us here. Look, there's another curtain at the other end," Shiloh explains, "But here are some bandages." The boys start to wrap white bandages around the wound.

"We'll do it better later, Noa, but now we just need to stop the bleeding and stuff."

"Let me see what's going on out there." Aedan helps me up and I put my arm around his shoulders to stay standing. We peek out of the curtain, but Shiloh stays back.

"Look, there's the girl who cut you. Cathodra." Aedan points out the eighteen-year-old from Three. I keep an eye on her as the fight goes on. She's fighting the boy from Kalen's alliance, Phi. "Hey, aren't they district partners?"

"I don't think he cares," I mutter. Cathodra looks terrified of the boy.

That's when he whips out a knife and stabs her through the eye. Aedan flinches. I stuff a fist in my mouth to keep from crying out. "He's not even human!" Aedan hisses.

Cathodra falls to the ground, blood soaking her neck and dark hair. Phi leaves the knife in her skull and moves on.

"Remind me to stay away from him," Aedan's voice is a tiny whisper.

"Will do."

**DISTRICT ONE MALE: AINSLEY JETT**

I face the little maniac from Three and sneer. Phi thinks he's scary, but I can only see the fact that he is unarmed. He may be insane, and true, he just killed his district partner, but he lost his knife in the process. I'm stronger than him and I'm armed. He won't bring me down.

He still lunges at me like a beast. I swipe the rapier in front of him and he pulls up short, but it's not in true fear, it's just survival. I snarl. I want power. I want him to be _afraid_. I leap forward and jab one, two and the third scratches the boy right between the eyes. For the first time I see a hint of wary fear on Three's ugly face and I smirk. Tiny beads of blood roll down his nose.

He doesn't risk any further injury. Phi runs and disappears through one of the curtains.

I spin around, making sure no stupid tribute is trying to sneak up on me from behind. I won't be caught off guard like that. I can't be vulnerable. No one can get into my mind; no one can catch me unawares.

I want another fight. Some tributes have already disappeared into the outer arena areas- I saw the girl from Ten running away right from the start. All of them are cowards.

There are no loners hanging around. Everyone seems to be engaged… or hiding, but if they're hiding they'll be an easy kill. I am co-commander of the Career pack, I need a strong kill.

I don't really want to kill. There are plenty of other ways to get rid of the competition. But if I want to get the power I so crave, I will need to be a killer. Merciless. A manhunter.

Desire is fighting the psycho from Five up near the Cornucopia. Hm. She won't kill him on her own, she's not quite strong enough. Elmo's a threat. Insane, fiery in more ways than one. I push through the melee to the black horn. For now, I'll watch. If Desire gets in big trouble I will step in; if Elmo tries to escape I will kill him. But I want to see what happens here.

Desire seems to hold her own for a little while, but in a few minutes she's getting tired. Poor pretty girl can't keep up a fight, isn't that it? Well, it'll be nice to have her owe me her life later on. Keep your allies in your debt and you'll get places much easier.

Desire loses her bloodbath weapon (a small axe, Sawyer's directions were to grab the first weapon you could use) to Elmo when he catches the handle and rips it away from her. She starts to get desperate, and she lashes out to scratch his pale face. Four lines of blood appear on his cheek.

When Elmo grabs Desire's wrist and slams her knuckles into the metal of the Cornucopia, I jump in. I kick the boy in the stomach and grab the axe away from him. He's got another weapon with him, though, a scimitar.

I brandish my rapier and move into fighting position, sweat already glistening on my dark skin. This will be fun. And Desire will be the main witness to it. Unfortunate, since she's the least well liked of the Careers, but at least she won't lie about it. I can sort of trust a district partner. Well, scratch that. I won't trust anyone. I've never trusted anyone. I'll just distrust Desire a little less than most of the others. She might be helpful as a pawn piece later on.

Elmo strikes down with the axe, but I deflect with the hand guard of my sword. He's raging wild, not bothering with technique. In fact, only the trained fighters are bothering with strategy at this point.

I calmly flick my blade up and cut right across Elmo's shoulder. He growls, flicks a piece of dark red hair from his forehead, and dashes forward. I move to counter the stroke, but there's nothing there.

Elmo tricked me with a stupid feint? The most basic of dueling tricks?

I feel heat rush to my face. No measly District Five tribute should have been able to do that. I stumble to regain my balance, and Elmo strikes hard at my sword hand with Desire's axe. I dodge, but the axe catches my blade and the rapier snaps off. I curse loudly and toss down the broken sword.

It's a quick lunge. Elmo doesn't expect me to come straight at him unarmed, but that's just it. If he can trick me, I'll get him right back. I grab his elbow and twist hard. There's a snap and the boy screams, dropping the axe. Bone sticks out of his arm.

I stomp on the instep of his right foot, stopping Elmo's immediate retreat and then I grab his neck.

Might as well offer him up to Desire. This keeps my position of power strong anyway, and I don't really want to take a life. Causing pain is fine, we do that in training. I don't know if I want to step up to killing right now.

I'll be ready if Sawyer is watching me. I won't look weak.

I offer Elmo's neck to Desire, but she nervously shakes her blonde head. I shrug, force myself to dry-swallow the lump in my throat, and jerk the boy's neck to the side.

Another snap and the body goes limp. Repulsed, I toss the corpse away from me. Blood still oozes slowly from the cuts.

There's an empty place inside me. A dull sense of something missing. I don't feel too bad about it, though, with the adrenaline and stuff.

I know what's missing now, and the thought of it makes me laugh. I'm missing my humanity.

**DISTRICT TWO MALE: ANDRAS FEY**

Calder's more of a fighter than I thought he would be. "Hey, Kalen!" I shout to the Six boy who's collecting supplies, "toss me another blade, will you?"

"All right, Pretty Boy!" He sends a long curved knife flying through the air. I catch it easily and with the screech of metal on metal, use it to block Calder's harpoon tip from piercing my sternum. Then I twist to the side and swing my quarterstaff at Four's feet. He jumps, effectively avoiding it, but he lands unbalanced.

"Game over," I sneer and hurl the curved knife straight into Calder's throat. He takes one last gurgling, whistling breath and crumples to the ground, blood bubbling from his broken windpipe. I join Calder for a moment at the supply piles. "Don't call me Pretty Boy." I take a red backpack and, just in case, I grab a singlestick.

"Give it up, we'll call you Pretty Boy until you die or until we do," Kalen retorts, slinging a dark green bag over his shoulder.

"Shut up, Kalen, find Phi and Marlee and get out. We've got everything we need, plus some kills to the alliance." Kalen smirks and runs off.

I find Sawyer on the other side of the Cornucopia, the Career alliance having scattered all over the dome. She's advancing on the little girl from Eleven, who is pinned to the ground by a knife through the ankle. Too bad for you, kid. I almost grin at the girl's fear, and I know Sawyer's in her element. This'll be even more fun then. She raises her spear; the Eleven girl mews in fright and pain.

"Hey, Aurora."

Sawyer flinches and her spear drops, cutting at the girl's throat on the side. A garbled scream echoes through the arena, but Eleven is alive. Sawyer turns to face me so quickly that she knocks aside the blade that the other girl was pinned down with.

"Andras. I'm going to kill you for that."

"You should also know that I just killed your district partner."

Sawyer screams. "You left the alliance and now you come to kill us off? You're an idiot! I will kill you so painfully and slowly…!"

I laugh in her face. "Yeah, sure, that's what they all say. Come on, admit your alliance is worse off without me."

"We're a million times better off when you're gone!"

"Aw, you missed me! Isn't that cute?"

"Don't you have a boyfriend-" Sawyer spits on the ground spitefully, "-you want to get home to, Fey?"

"I am going home, Aurora. You're not. Don't get cocky now."

"Pah! You're one to talk."

"What do you mean by that? I'm a _guy_, after all." Her face flushes, but I just grin.

"You know what I meant." She levels her spear at my heart and leaps forward, but the tip slides sideways off my staff. I sweep at her legs, but she dances back and stays on her feet. Before I'm ready she strikes again, this time at my throat.

"Ow!" I rub at my neck. She scraped along the side, scratching me badly. My hand comes away bloody.

"Pull yourself together, boy. Dying will hurt much more than a little cut."

"I think I know that. I watched Calder die. It wasn't pretty." Sawyer howls again, composure lost. She sweeps at my legs and I barely get my staff out in time to stop her spear from cutting my knees to the bone. With a flip of the staff I confuse her enough to get in a shallow cut on her left kneecap. Not good enough, but oh well.

"Nice try," she growls at me, clipping my chin with the shaft of her spear. I work my jaw to stop the pain.

"Glad you think so."

"Will you just die already?"

"Hey, get up here!" I call down to Marlee and Kalen as they pass by on their way to a curtain. Kalen cruises on past, but Marlee changes direction and hoists her pickaxe. "Come on, let's take her down!" My ally hesitates, but knowing I could just as easily kill her later on for not helping, advances. I parry another hard blow from Sawyer, earning a dent in my staff for the effort.

"So you're bringing in outer district girls to fight your battles, Fey? How District Two of you. I'm sure your home would be proud."

"I don't care if they're proud or not. You can die and we can both leave easy or you can die and I can leave tired. I'd rather walk away relatively unharmed, no thanks to you." Marlee comes into close range. "Five, get around the side!" She obeys, but she's not in striking distance. Not helpful.

"Can you not?" Sawyer says. She can't see Marlee at all, and yet she only sounds mildly irritated.

I charge in with my staff and the singlestick, aiming to hit Sawyer in the collarbone. I get contact on her shoulder with the singlestick but she catches the quarterstaff on her spear and knees me in the side. My attack is pushed back and I'm unbalanced. Sawyer risks a turn to Marlee, who was creeping in from behind.

"Gotcha!" She whips the spear down, hitting my ally's hand and then pulling the tip back. The sharp edge cuts deep into Marlee's fingers and she screams. Two digits from her right hand fall to the bloodstained gravel.

"Marlee, out!" I fling a handful of gravel in Sawyer's face and run past her, keeping out of striking distance. That's enough of a fight. I can get her later, but I want a whole alliance so I can utterly destroy the Career pack.

**DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: RHAIN MILLER**

Where's Alyx? I take in huge, ragged breaths, trying to calm down and slow my racing heart. I slump down against the wall in the short tunnel between two red curtains. I will not pass the second curtain without my ally. I can't just stay here, she could need my help. Alyx could be dead, or hurt, or fighting! She probably wanted supplies, but I don't know where she would be now.

I'll have to go back out into the main area. She won't risk going through every curtain looking for me, would she? We got separated at the very beginning, I have no idea where she went after that. I barely made it here through all the fights!

The weapons clashing and kids screaming, the terrifying noises of battle, are starting to die down at last. I think one of the big alliances must have left or something. Most likely, though, people are just hovering. It could just be a lull.

It's my best chance. And everything's real now- my 'best chance' is hardly a chance at all. One second could be the difference between me dying at the bloodbath or going home to my Hope.

I'll always have Hope, she might not always have me.

Hah, I'll always have hope. I wish.

I poke my head out into the open area. I can't see any other tributes nearby, especially not near any of the curtains. Keeping my left side pressed to the dome wall, I glance at the Cornucopia battles. There's still a knot of tributes fighting, and Careers are everywhere. It's like an infestation. I start running to the next red curtain, but I don't make it.

Someone grabs the back collar of my jumpsuit. I cry out and flail- the rough hand is most certainly not Alyx and it only triggers memories of Drusus.

"So I caught one of the girls, hey?" Career boy from District One. Tears prick behind my eyes. He will kill me I'm going to die this is it this is it this is it. "I guess this kill will work. Number two for me!" Somehow he doesn't sound like he's thirsting for my blood. It's slower, more hesitant.

He tosses me against the wall like I weigh nothing. "District Nine, is it?" I give a miniscule nod. "I'll make it quick. I'm sorry about this, you shouldn't have to die." He raises a thin sword.

"No!" Alyx comes out of nowhere and slams into the boy's side, brandishing a knife which she plunges into his upper right arm. He inhales sharply and clenches his jaw before shaking her off and blocking her next stroke. His muscles tighten, spraying warm blood all over Alyx and me. I wince, still too shocked to move.

The Career grabs Alyx and smashes her shoulder into the dome wall. She cries out and clutches her shoulder. Her left arm hangs at a funny angle now. I retch a little at the sight, and Alyx can't stop the tears running down her face. I reach over and put my arms around her. Dying with a friend may not be so bad. Huddled in fear in front of a killer, but at least, at last, I'm not alone.

"Nine, I might leave you alive. Seven, you hurt me, you won't live for that. Retribution. I can't let my power slip now." He transfers his thin blade to his left hand and prepares to stab Alyx.

"Don't hurt her any more!" I cry, "You've done enough, don't kill her, don't kill me, please… please!"

There's a loud screech of metal scraping along metal from the Cornucopia. I gasp, cringing at the sound. Even Ainsley turns around. Everything has stopped to pay attention to the grating, echoing clash.

Melody, from District Two, hacks at a body that drapes over the rim of the Cornucopia. Her eyes light up with a vicious sparkle and she has a bloody grin. "Melody, he's dead!" one of the other Careers calls out. It sounds like Sawyer.

"Melody?" the girl says sweetly, letting the body roll from the black Cornucopia to the gravel. It's Barke, Alyx's district partner. My ally gasps and starts to cry. "Who's Melody?"

The tiny blonde girl hauls herself onto the top of the Cornucopia and spreads her arms. "Who is Melody?"

"Um, you?" That's the girl from One, Desire.

"I'm not Melody," the girl says, still smiling innocently. She's drenched in Barke St. Claire's blood. "I AM NOT MELODY!"

Everything is silent for a moment.

"I AM LILITH!"

Everyone is stunned into complete, utter stillness. Then the creature on top of the black horn begins to laugh. It's a witchy cackle, loud and ringing with evil. My breath catches in my throat. How… what happened to Melody? The girl, the quiet Career girl who wasn't any threat at all?

I nudge Alyx out of her petrified stupor and motion towards a red curtain. She holds her shoulder and I lead her to the curtain. We push past it and the evil laughter still rings in our ears. Even through the thick curtain we can hear it from the Cornucopia dome.

"Alyx, Alyx are you okay?"

"I… I could ask you the same thing, you know," she whispers weakly.

"No, your shoulder. I'm fine, afraid but I'm fine. Shoulder, what happened to your shoulder?"

"It felt like… like it just crunched up into my arm."

"Let me see, I've learned first aid." Alyx takes her hand off her shoulder gingerly. I can sort of see the funny angle it's bent at.

"It looks like the joint was shattered. Nothing to help us in our supplies, unless you've managed to get a splint or something."

Alyx shakes her head. "Rhain, this is bad."

"Hey, we'll be fine together," I lie through my teeth, "As long as we have hope."

**DISTRICT NINE MALE: KNOX BLAKE**

The insane girl from District Two screams with laughter, standing on top of the Cornucopia. I close my eyes and hold my breath, hoping with all my heart that she doesn't see me. I'm pressed up against the curve of the huge black horn, almost right next to Melody-Lilith, who howls above me like she rules the world. I feel a tear squeeze out of my eye. I'm the littlest one left now. I'm so afraid to die.

Lydia got hurt up here, I saw her from the outer edge. If the boy from Two didn't distract the girl from Four, Lydia would be dead already. She's still breathing, but she's hurt badly. Otherwise she would have moved away by now. I don't want to be alone, but here I am, in terrible danger, alone. I just came to try and save Lydia!

Melody-Lilith leaps off the Cornucopia to the body of the boy she killed. The few remaining tributes go back to fighting or running or collecting supplies. I wait a heartbeat longer until I'm sure that Melody-Lilith and the other Careers didn't see me. Then I scramble around to where I saw Lydia earlier. She's only moved a foot or so, but now I gotta figure out how to get her out of here. She has one pack with her- that's why she was at the bloodbath in the first place. We decided to stay away! I guess she just got a little greedy.

"Lydia," I hiss under my breath, "Lydia, can you hear me?" A faint nod. It's barely a reply, but it's something. She's alive and conscious. That means I still might have an ally. "I gotta get you out of here. Sorry ahead of time, because it' gonna hurt." She's got a hole through her ankle that's swollen around the edges and a deep gash on her neck that drips blood with every shallow breath Lydia takes.

"I'm sorry," I cringe as I take hold of her shoulders. The Careers have centered on the other side of the Cornucopia and there are no more skirmishes. Lydia and I are the last ones out here. Glancing over my shoulder to find a curtain, I drag Lydia across the gravel. I'm sure it's getting all up in her wounds, but I can't do anything about that out here in the open. "Just hold on, Lyd, okay, just hold on!"

I make it across the gravel and through the curtain before I sit down and put Lydia's head in my lap. Her breathing has gotten even weaker.

"Look…in the… pack," she croaks. I take the light blue bag off her shoulders and rifle through it. Some crackers, a bit of rope… no bandages. Nothing for first aid at all.

"There's nothing that'll help you, Lyd," I start to cry a little, "Nothing at all!"

"Hey, Knox… it's fine. My… my grandma always said… she said "There's… something… always something you can… do." So… stay here with me… all right?"

I wipe my nose. "Hey, my gran says that too!" Lydia smiles a bit. "Did you love your gran a lot?"

"Always… and forever," Lydia says. She raises a weak hand to her necklace, which is bloodstained now. "This… was hers."

"My gran always told me stories."

"Grandmas… they tell… the best stories. I… s'pose… I'm gonna see… my grandma soon."

"Don't say that. Don't."

"Will you tell me… one of the stories?"

"Lydia…"

"Please, Knox?" I nod, adjusting my smudged glasses on my nose.

"Once, there was a girl. She had black hair in a braid, and dark brown skin, and she wore a necklace that used to be her grandma's. She loved the people around her and the plants and animals, too. One day she was walking along in the town, watching all the people she loved, when she saw it." I pause for a second.

"What… did she see… Knox?"

"She saw a pure white unicorn." Lydia smiles. "It was the most beautiful thing anyone in the town had ever seen. Everyone wanted to catch it, and own it, and ride it. But it was too strong and wild and fast to be caught.

"But the unicorn was gentle when this girl came through the streets to see it. It walked right up to her and snuffled in her face and let her pet it and climb on its back. The rest of the town wanted the girl to trick the unicorn, to capture it. Because for her, the unicorn would gladly stay.

"The girl refused. She didn't want the unicorn to be caught. But the townspeople, the people that she loved, tried to force her to help them catch the unicorn. So she ran away. The unicorn went with her. They traveled for weeks and weeks, until they came to the top of the tallest mountain. They could see the town from there, and the girl decided to, with the help of her friend- that's the unicorn, of course- watch over the town.

"And so the girl was happy, and everyone was safe."

"Un…unicorn? Really?" Lydia teases.

"It's a story, anything can happen."

She smiles one more time and then dies in my arms.

_ BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM._

The bloodbath is over. There are sixteen of us left.

And I'm alone.

* * *

**OBITUARIES**

**D3 Cathodra Steinmetz: Lupus Overkill, you gave me one of the most detailed characters I have ever received. Cathodra was fun to write and wonderfully average, but there was simply too much information to work with and I had a hard time fitting it all in. She faded to the background and I felt like I wouldn't be able to do much with her in the Games. I'm sorry I killed her, but I loved her.**

**D4 Calder McCullin: Stareyed in LA, Cal was such a fun guy to write for, but he wasn't going to develop well and I didn't want too many comic relief characters in the Games. I'm sorry. He was a great guy, he just didn't take his Games seriously enough.**

**D5 Elmo Acoba: The Ruiner, Elmo was fantastically wild and so much fun to figure out. He was a static character though, and I couldn't find a way for him to fit into my arena plans. He was a shocker, but his development would be very limited and so I had to decide against him. **

**D7 Barke St. Claire: Ace, Barke was a great backstory character, but I had so many tributes who would have developed the same way that I had to kill some of them off. Barke was good at the beginning, but he would have really gotten lost during the Games and there wasn't going to be any way to bring him back into focus. **

**D8 Visca Martin: Jay, Visca- like Barke and Elmo- was a good backstory/shock character. She was weak, though, and there just wasn't a plotline for her that would have developed her character. I really liked her though, she was really special to write for and I'm glad I got to give her the sections I did.**

**D11 Lydia Fern: Even when musics gone, Lydia was a complex and beautiful character, and I really loved her, but she was already headed down the same path as Bay from Rubber Rooms and Deadlines. You know when you type Bay when you're trying to type Lydia that they're going to do the same thing, and I couldn't have any repeats. :( I loved Lydia, she was so sweet.**

**D12 Kyra Montgomery: our little infinity, Kyra was probably the absolute most average character I had. She just faded so much that I was having a hard time writing for her and it wasn't going to turn out anything special.**

**D12 Eris Ira: KnockingBells, I adored Eris. As a younger tribute, he was at more risk anyway and he was one of the tributes I didn't have a plotline for, so he ended up here. I'm really sorry about this one, he was a great kid.**

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**I hope all authors who have lost their tributes will stick around to find the outcome of the story! I love you all and thank you for your characters!**

**I always feel like bloodbaths are really hard to get right, there's never enough chaos and individual emotion. :/ Oh well.**

**So, we didn't find out the whole arena yet, we still have everything behind the curtains :D Tell me what you thought! **


	19. After the Storm

**I'M BAAACK!**

**It's been FOREVER, you guys, but I am going on NO MORE vacations and I'll be a hermit for another month, so I should be able to get much more frequent updates going! **

**In this chapter: lots of wounds, mental conflict, and (partial) arena reveal! Muahahaha! XD**

**I'm so glad to be back! ^-^**

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**DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: INEZ CARMEN**

With screams still echoing behind me, I collapse on the other side of the red curtain and begin to sob. It's all too much, the chaos, the _murder_ that's happening just a few meters away from me. These kids, teenagers my age and younger who turned to killing as soon as they were released from their metal plates, they're only kids. Why would they even think to go along with this, for the entertainment of some messed up, painted, too-rich grownups? Animals, all of them. All of us.

I ran. I saw a single strike and that was all I could take. Aedan, my district partner, could be dead for all I know and I only turned and fled. I'm a coward. I'm supposed to help people, not desert them. Monsters, we're all monsters now. I think of the little boy from Nine, Knox, who might be dead. The girl with a child, Rhain. Do I deserve to outlive them? I just saved my own sorry skin. I'm as bad as any of them.

I bite my lip as someone cries in pain just outside my hiding place. I'm still too close to the fight. If one person pushes aside the heavy crimson barrier between me and the fight, I'm dead. So I stumble to my feet, tears stinging my eyes and running hot and fast down my cheeks, and push onward.

The only thing I can make out in the stifling darkness is a simple wooden door at the end of a short tunnel. I fumble for a handle, a doorknob against the rough wood, but the door just creaks open. Light spills into the tunnel and I quickly drag the door closed. Could the glow from the other side have shown past the edges of the curtain? Probably not, but I'm jumpy.

I open the door once more and slip through as fast as I can. If this is as safe as I'll be, it'll have to do. Something shifts at the edge of my vision and I snap my glance down. The off white jumpsuit now has words marching across it. They're difficult to read upside-down but I can make out a few sentences. _Banks of gorgeous flowers were on every hand… He is a good Wizard… The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick._

Glancing around at my surroundings, I feel like I've stepped into some sort of fairytale. Small, brightly colored houses sit haphazardly around a large open area cobbled with swirls of red and yellow. Flowers abound, huge blossoming bushes sit everywhere, dwarfing the houses and making the storybook town seem like it was taken over by a giant's garden. There's a sweet smell in the air that reminds me of sugar- a smell I probably wouldn't have recognized if it weren't for my week in the Capitol.

How is this quaint, colorful place a Hunger Games arena? I turn quizzically back to the wooden door to find that it is part of a house. A house? It was just a tunnel! I peek through the door again to see that, yes, it leads to the short tunnel. The house is a façade.

High-pitched laughter rings through the air like bells. I whirl around and the musical giggles fade, but I can't see anyone. "Who's there?" The only movement is a few leaves on the flowery shrubs rustling in the slight breeze. "I said, who's there? Show yourself!" The courage and harsh determination in my voice surprise me- I only feel terror.

The petals on some of the flowers tremble; more childish laughter fills my ears. I'm freaked out, but the laughter isn't threatening. Which, I guess, scares me, but not as much as it could have.

I warily move towards the flowers, peering at them, looking for signs of evil or whatever the Capitol could have engineered for the Games. They look normal even if their colors are much too bright. I relax a little… until several of the blossoms rise up off the hedge.

Eyes widening, I scream and scramble backwards to the wooden door. Now many of the flowers are moving, causing bushes all over the little town to shake and rustle. Are they _alive_?

Small figures emerge from the bushes, smiling up at me with the flowers on their little hats bouncing from side to side. They're dressed in bright clothes, a rainbow of colors- but I notice the predominant color is blue.

I'm backed up against the front of the house, my fingers are scrabbling for purchase, but to no avail. These things, the size of children, are just about to murder me!

"Welcome to Munchkin Country!" chirps one of the little people, a wizened old lady with bells on the brim of her flower hat and on the hem of her frilly pale blue dress.

My throat and mouth seem to be full of cotton. I can only choke out, "Um… what?"

"Welcome to the land of the Munchkin people," another of the small guys steps forward, this time a younger man in an old-fashioned blue suit, "Miss, we do not mean you harm, we are not controlled by a witch or anything of the sort. The house you just exited removed that burden from this country long ago." He smiles, beckoning me forward. I allow my tense muscles to relax; I don't think these people will hurt me, they're genuine.

"So… what- who, sorry, are the Munchkins, exactly?"

"We are! The people of this land! We are the Munchkins."

"And… a witch? You said something about a witch."

"There was once an evil witch who held us in bondage for many years, until a small girl came in that very house and crushed her!" The old lady Munchkin smiles kindly at me. I glance back at the house. These have to be mutts of some sort since that house is a fake.

"Miss, you are welcome here with us, you are a kind girl."

"Um. Thanks."

"What is your name? Where are you from?"

"Inez, ma'am. I'm Inez Carmen. I'm from District Ten."

The four Munchkins smile broadly and begin calling out, "Inez! Meet Inez Carmen from the faraway land of Districten!" From everywhere, the bright houses and the bushes and all over town, more blue-clad Munchkins emerge from their hiding places, all greeting me.

"Is there a place here where I can stay?" It's weird just… inviting myself in, but this seems like a safe place. I don't know how long it will stay that way, but for now, I like it here with the Munchkins.

"Yes, yes, Inez, follow us!" they chirp, motioning for me to follow them.

"And, uh, could you not tell anyone that I'm here?"

"Anything for our friend!"

**DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE: MARLEE STARK**

My breath comes in ragged, heaving gasps. Kalen grabs my shoulders and hauls me through the curtain, ignoring my squeal of pain as my bloody hand bumps against his chest. "Get out of here, Marlee!" he snarls at me, pushing me into a dark hallway and dashing back into the bloodbath dome. A shower of gravel sprays up behind him.

I clench my jaw, trying to hold in the pain. I can barely keep myself from fainting, let alone walk on my own. I'm going nowhere until my allies show up again.

Kalen's back in under a minute with a green backpack and a beige drawstring bag. "Come on, girl. You're useless if you won't try to do anything." I try to make a face- I'm not useless, I'm just _missing some fingers_- but my focus is still on the pain in my hand and I can't reply. I just let the younger boy half-carry, half-drag me through the simple door frame on the other side. Suddenly we're in a building with a few broken chairs and some sort of food… preparation… area like a café, lit by the sun streaming through the windows. Kalen dumps me in a chair with half the back missing.

"Who goes there?" Phi leaps over the counter, ready to snap someone's neck, but Kalen whips a long dagger from the drawstring bag.

"It's just us, calm down. Get Marlee under control." As he speaks I realize I'm breathing faster and faster and the world is getting fuzzy.

Phi scowls, twisting his misshapen face even further. "What am I supposed to do about her? What even happened? Did the incompetent wretch get scratched up?"

"I got two fingers cut off, idiot!" I choke out, the agony slurring my speech. Phi blinks but doesn't stop sneering. The black around the edge of my vision presses farther into my sight. I want to faint but… what would happen? I refuse to die here.

Fighting the pain as best I can, I bring my injured hand up and press the finger stumps with my other hand. Stem the flow of blood, isn't that what they say?

Andras bursts through the back door of the café, holding a quarterstaff, a curved knife, and some sort of cudgel. The angry fire dies from his eyes as he sees the three of us, and he brushes back the dark blonde curls from his eyes. "We've killed two. I got Calder and Phi, Cathodra."

"And I've lost fingers, douchebag, so don't you _dare_ start monologue-ing!" Andras snaps his mouth shut and just looks at me, sort of lost, for a few seconds before sliding the red pack off his shoulder and digging through it for something.

Kalen leans over to me. "I think that's the first time someone's been able to shut Pretty Boy up." We share a smirk, but within a second I'm distracted by the pain in my hand.

"You too, Kal, look for anything that could bandage this," I snap at the boy from Six. Phi raises his eyebrows at me before pawing through the green bag. He's dangerous, but nobody wants to pick a fight with the resident casualty right now.

"I've got bandages and painkiller," Kalen tosses a roll of white cloth and a metal container across the floor.

"All right, help me get her out of this building. It's too close to the entrance," Andras orders. Phi grabs my legs, Andras my shoulders, and they haul me through the café to the outer door. The boy from Two kicks open the wooden door and we're outside.

I'm amazed by the new environment, but I guess the guys saw it earlier. Lucky them, with clear minds and all.

There's an open area in the main street, but maybe thirty feet from the front of the café the street is blockaded. Barrels, paving stones, tables, chairs, doors, tables, casks, even a (formerly horse-drawn) carriage and a broken piano form a massive wall of furniture across the road. It sits maybe eight feet high, but it's a formidable structure.

The boys haul me to the blockade and lay me across several crates. Kalen carries the meds and bandages to Andras and then he and Phi go back to the café to sort through the rest of the supplies.

Andras briskly unrolls a length of white cloth and tears it off using his teeth. I start to sit up, but he glares at me and I stay put. "Stay down and shut up, you're in shock. Raise your wounded hand." I follow orders. My hand is trembling violently and blood trickles from the short stumps in a steady stream. My ally kneels down beside me and grabs my wrist with one hand. "Try to relax, this is going to hurt more than the actual injury did." He starts winding the bandage around my wrist, which is fine, but then he moves up and presses the cloth over the bleeding stumps. I scream, my whole arm throbbing in intense pain. Arching my back, I try to twist away from Andras. He strengthens his grip and keeps wrapping the cloth around and around, swaddling half my hand with it. The pressure is agony. My mind goes blank.

"That's it. Don't sit up." He tucks the edge of the bandage under and lays my hand across my torso.

"Give me the painkiller," I hiss through clenched teeth. Andras presses two purple pills into my hand and I gulp them down greedily. The pressure isn't so painful now, it quashes some of the pain down. But I'm still crippled with the tortuous throbbing in my hand.

"Where are we?" I manage.

"No idea. This is some sort of barricade, I guess. The point of it, I've got no clue."

"Barricade. That's a good word for it. Hey- look at the jumpsuits!" There are words printed on the cream-colored fabric. I sit up too fast trying to look at my own and have to close my eyes for a second.

"Text of some sort. To me, it looks like someone spilled textbook pages on us. But… the way it reads, it's like a story."

I look at Andras's shoulder. _He was angelically handsome. He was a savage Antinous._ _One would have said, to see the pensive thoughtfulness of his glance, that he had already, in some previous state of existence, traversed the revolutionary apocalypse. He possessed the tradition of it as though he had been a witness. _"Some story." He shrugs. "I guess I have you to thank for my life."

"You're an ally. We have things to do, why would I let you die now?"

**DISTRICT EIGHT MALE: SHILOH TYNE**

"Couldn't they have just smoothed out a tiny section of this place?" Aedan says, tripping over another stalagmite, "Everything is rocks, rocks, rocks, and dark, dark, dark. We need a place for Noa to rest comfortably and for me _not _to break a leg!"

"Of course they didn't smooth anything out, this is the Hunger Games," I whisper miserably. Aedan makes a face that I can barely see in the darkness.

"Could you try and focus on the search, please?" Noa's voice is strained with pain and I hold out my hand to her so she can climb over the uneven stones without aggravating her wound as much. Her face is so pale I can make it out in the dim light, but her freckles dance, making me dizzy.

"Guys, back in the back!" Aedan bounds forward, "It looks like a cave!"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I ask. Noa presses herself against my side and I try not to flinch away. She's my ally and she's hurt- I need to support her, not get back in my comfort zone.

Aedan hesitates before replying. "I… don't know. I mean, this entire place is a giant cave, it's like a smaller one. It could be smoother, we could stop there."

"Or something could be waiting there to kill us!" Noalee groans. Aedan stops for a moment.

"It's our best shot, I say let's go. The Capitol just had their bloodbath, why would they send something after us right away? The eight cannons were less than five minutes ago," I reason. Aedan grins at me and we're on our way again.

The cave-inside-the-cave is pretty shallow, only about five feet deep, and the ground is a lot smoother than the main cave. Noalee whimpers and starts to crumple to the floor, but I get an arm under her so she doesn't just fall. Aedan sets down the packs and starts digging through them. "We'll redo the bandage here, Noa, just hold on, okay?"

The girl doesn't reply, she's too focused on just breathing in and out. I've dealt with hurt, sure, but Noalee's face is twisted in an expression of excruciating pain. I'm lost for words, for actions.

"Shiloh, come help me look through the packs!" Aedan's call is tinged with urgency. I hurry over and kneel down beside our supplies.

"Do you think she'll live?" he whispers to me. Once glance at his face in the dimness and I can see he's panicking. It starts me freaking out too.

"She has to. What are we gonna do without her?"

Aedan seems reassured, but I didn't convince myself. What if she does die? Aedan and I aren't tough like she is. "Where'd we put the bandages, Shi?" I cringe. Nicknames aren't my thing, not after the bullies used them so often. But I don't have the heart to say anything about it.

I dig through one of the packs, pulling out water bottles, a length of rope, a blanket, and a flashlight. No bandages here, they must be in the other bag.

A flashlight, we got a flashlight! I snatch it up, fumbling for a switch or a button. Finally I find a sliding switch and flick it on. A beam of yellow light floods the cave.

"Whoa, nice!" Aedan cries, his smile returning. Noalee curls up around her wound, shielding her face and her stomach from the light. "Hey, Noa, hey, relax. It's good, the light is good, we'll be able to bandage your injury better now." He rummages through the other pack for a few more seconds before coming up with the bandages.

We have to gently coax Noa out of the fetal position so we can unwrap the hurried job we did earlier.

"Are you doing okay?" I ask, "Come on, Noa, talk to me. It'll be easier if you talk to me."

"It hurts so much," she mutters weakly, squeezing her eyes shut, "I just want to die."

"No. Listen to me, Noa, don't ever say that. You don't want to die. None of us do, and Aedan and I are going to help you as much as we can. I thought I wanted to die once, and no. It's the worst feeling in the world. So don't think that." I help her sit up.

Aedan helps me unwrap the soiled cloth from Noalee's middle and I shine the light on the wound to help us assess the damage.

I recoil in disgust, but Aedan turns around and starts retching. I guess I'm a little more used to blood. I pat him on the back with a shaking hand. "We have to clean the wound so it won't get infected." I grab the knife Noalee got from the bloodbath and cut off a small section of bandage to soak it in water.

Aedan, white as a sheet now, forces himself to look down at Noa's wound again. "I can do it. I… I need to help." He dabs gently at the edges of the cut, wincing every time Noalee whimpers in pain. He gets the blood off the outside edges pretty quick, but the main part of the slash just keeps welling up with dark blood. It's a gaping hole in our ally's stomach. "Why isn't it cleaning up? It's just more and more… gross!" This time we're both heaving up our meals. The sour smell fills the cave.

We've been trying to wash off Noa's guts. The wound cuts right to her inner organs.

"Bandage bandage bandage!" I gasp, and Aedan and I pass the white cloth back and forth around the girl's torso until the roll is almost half gone. We're shaking and sweating and Noalee is out of it entirely. "Shock." Remembering the blanket in our supplies, I pull it out and lay it over the fourteen-year old. "At least it's a clean cut. It's easier to deal with."

"How did you learn so much about first aid, Shi?" Aedan tries to bring his humor back into the situation. In this case it doesn't help. I flush red and look down. Aedan's gaze follows mine until he sees my wrists. "Oh… sorry, really. I'm sorry."

"There are bigger problems now."

**DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: ALYX FAITH**

I thrash my head from side to side, trying to keep Rhain away from my shoulder. "Don't touch me, don't touch me!"

"Calm down, calm down! We need to look at your wound and at least see if we can do anything about it!" Rhain sits beside me against the wall.

"There's nothing we can do, nothing! It hurts, it hurts so much!" I wail. My right hand hovers over the joint in my left shoulder, but there's no way I'm going to let them come in contact.

"Alyx, maybe it's dislocated. Maybe the joint isn't shattered like I thought, just hold still and let me look at it!"

"What do you know about first aid? How can you help? Go away! Leave me alone! It hurts, it hurts!" I kick out at my ally and she hops back with a squeal.

"Alyx!" she cries like she's been betrayed. Through my blurred, red-tinged vision, I see her make some sort of upset face before she lunges at me, her silvery blonde hair flying into my face. She sits on my legs and plants a hand on my collarbone, holding me against the wall. Rhain's stronger than I give her credit for… but I'm in agony. I whip my good arm out, catching her across the face and sending her sprawling to the side.

"Stop that!" she cries, pressing a hand to her jaw. "Alyx, you've got to get under control!"

Something descends from the ceiling, floating down in a silver parachute to Rhain's hands. "At least there's someone who wants us to live," she murmurs. Without the girl from Nine keeping a close eye on me, I start scooting away from her along the wall, just trying to be alone. She gives me a look but now she's focused on the package.

"To the girls: inject into injured shoulder. Sedative and pain medication. Local anesthetic will numb area for more than a day," Rhain reads from a card attached to the parcel. "Alyx, they sent us help! Come on, once we do this you won't hurt anymore!"

"Stay away!" I scream. No one can come near my shoulder, no one! I won't let them, it hurts too much!

Rhain dashes over and I whimper at her, trying to turn my left side away from her. "Don't come near me, don't touch me, it hurts it hurts it hurts!"

She grits her teeth. "I don't have time to coddle you about this, our survival depends on it!" She jumps on me, pinning my legs to the ground, and uses her right forearm to hold my head, neck, and shoulders still. With her left hand she raises the syringe and plunges it into my left shoulder, releasing all of the medication. I scream. _How can it hurt this much?_ My arm is on fire, my shoulder feels like someone's ripping it off and crushing it simultaneously.

And it's easier to black out than stay awake.

When I come to, the pain has lessened a great deal. Now my head aches, but that's more normal and bearable. My tongue is fuzzy- that's probably the sedative. Rhain sits next to me, smiling gently. There's a bruise starting to form on her jaw.

"Sorry for hitting you." I was so consumed by pain, that was all. I feel bad about hurting the one girl that agreed to stand by me in this terrible place.

"We're alive. You saved my life, and you were out of your mind when it happened. No apology necessary." Rhain's smile is melancholy like normal, and I'm just glad to see her smiling at all. Just a little while ago we were both going to die.

Like Barke. I remember seeing his dead body, his mutilated corpse slide from the Cornucopia. I turn away from Rhain, triggering deep throbs of pain in my shoulder, so she doesn't see the tears well up in my eyes. He was older than me, stronger, he was from home. He was the only link to home that wasn't tainted by my own lies.

And he was killed like he was nothing.

I won't let that happen again. Next time, I'll step in. Because a human life is worth so much more than that. Barke was more than a casualty.

"Doing all right?" Rhain asks quietly.

"Just upset is all."

"I get it." Rhain reaches over and pulls my head down onto her shoulder, stroking my hair. I feel like a child again, and it makes me smile.

Rhain's a mom like that. No matter what happened to her, she's always taking care of the people she loves.

"Rhain, it's all right. You're upset too, you don't have to comfort me."

"I feel better when everyone is calm. This calms both of us down. Just try and forget." I stare out at the place we're in. It's a huge dining hall, with four long tables across most of the floor and one ornate, smaller table perpendicular to the four at the far side of the room. Windows to the outside showed a well-managed courtyard with a forest in the distance, and the ceiling matched the sky. If not for the wood grain patterns, the ceiling might not exist.

"What is this place, Rhain?"

"I don't know, but look at the arena uniforms. They changed when we came through those double doors from the curtain." I glance down, seeing lots of words on the formerly monochrome jumpsuits. _To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever… Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting._ "This place is freakish."

**DISTRICT ONE FEMALE: DESIRE BLANCHARD**

"Hey, come collect weapons, they're all organized!" Sawyer calls to the rest of us Careers. She and Ainsley have been cataloguing and arranging supplies since the last cannon blast stopped ringing in our ears, and that was a few hours ago.

"Glad to see you guys finally finished, it takes less time for me to reorganize my wardrobe!" I snap, flouncing over to the selection that's been laid out in neat rows. I immediately gravitate towards the three bows that are off to one side. A longbow, a recurve, and a crossbow. I frown. The recurve has a draw weight that's at least thirty pounds too heavy for me and the longbow is ridiculously tall- there's no way I could shoot that thing with accuracy. I pull a face and move on to the crossbow. It's something, I suppose.

I choose two elegant hunting knives to go along with my crossbow and then step aside to let Damien and Melody arm themselves. Melody takes several swords and Damien selects a machete. Sawyer and Ainsley made their choices before they even let us come over here- Sawyer's got a whole belt of knives, the lance she used in the bloodbath, and a throwing axe; Ainsley is armed with a rapier but he's set several other thin blades aside.

"Gee, thanks for making sure we all had equal chances at the weapons," I whine at Sawyer.

"It's not like it matters. I mean, you're the one who was just comparing our weapons to your overstuffed closet. Those of us who are serious about this deserve first pick."

"And what do you mean by that?" Melody snarls.

"Calm down, Mels. You're plenty serious, just laid-back."

"I'm not 'Mels', I'm Lilith. Respect me as much or I will kill you."

"You had a temporary moment of insanity during the bloodbath, so relax. You've calmed down since then, there's no one else here to kill. Mels."

In a fraction of a second, the girl from Two has her blade at Sawyer's throat and our 'brave leader' is gasping for air. "I. Asked. For. Respect. I am Lilith. I am LILITH. That was the name given to me at birth, and I have reclaimed it through my act of bloodshed. I want no more trouble out of you, Aurora, because you are strong and I don't want to have to kill you just yet."

It's the first time I've seen Melody with such an inhuman look in her eyes and Sawyer looking terrified. It seems so… out of place.

"All right… Lilith," Sawyer chokes out. Mel- Lilith lets her go and turns to the rest of us.

"That goes for the rest of you. No trouble, or you're dead. Death is better than silly allies. I could do away with all of you without a second thought, or any regret. So obey me."

With Sawyer basically whimpering and showing her belly to Lilith like a humiliated dog, the rest of us back down pretty quickly.

Lilith marches over to stand by me. Looking at her eyes, I don't see anything but murder. "Desire will be my second in command. Sawyer, you are reassigned to the initial line of attack. Ainsley and Damien, the last in line of the Pack. Simple soldiers."

"Hey, you can't just give yourself the power like that! You all gave me the position of leader!" Sawyer cries. Lilith has her at sword point immediately. I'm torn between smirking and terror. Lilith is scary, but Sawyer sort of deserves this for being so mean to me.

"I'm sorry? You just subordinated yourself to me. The rest of them saw it. You're in _my_ Pack now, got it? I make the rules, I get the kills, I choose to let you live."

Sawyer values her own life over her command. We're not on the best of terms, but I can respect her intelligence. But… as Melody, our new commander was always kind to me. She said I fit her ideals the best. Good. There's someone here who appreciates me, who knows that I'm capable and even superior to the rest of them.

I'm named Desire for a reason after all.

Even if I'm the only member of the group that didn't get a kill, I'm perfectly capable of winning. I volunteered, after all.

"Anyone up for dinner?" Lilith asks, her voice cruel enough to give even a Gamemaker shivers.

I shake my head. It's become habit over so many years that I don't eat with other people. They'll just bug me about my weight. Of course, this way they'll irritate me about not eating, but I keep my appearance this way. That's important.

**DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE: DAMIEN SUMMERS**

We eat cold soup and whack off chunks of bread from one of our loaves to dip in it. We all turn to Sawyer for approval whenever Melody- Lilith, it's hard getting used to this- suggests something. The girl from Four is white-faced with shock, but her sense of command isn't going anywhere for a while yet.

"We need a schedule for hunting and guarding now," Lilith says, "Since we weren't competent enough to develop one beforehand." Sawyer stares at the ground and grips her cold soup can so hard her knuckles go white.

"I propose we stick together, since last year the separate groups of Careers only fostered secret-keeping and lies. I won't have that under my command." We all turn to Sawyer, who nods.

If things continue like this, Lilith's regime will be a blip in the time of the Games. I grit my teeth. She's reduced Ainsley and me to disposable soldiers. She's made plenty of racist comments in training- I'm sure our positions are because of her prejudice.

"There are five curtains. We'll go through one each day, maybe two if the areas behind each are small. One person will be left to guard each day. We'll be camped out here in the main dome. It's possible that the only entrances to the five spaces are through these curtains, and if any tributes want to change sections, they'll have to pass through our camp. There will be someone on watch all the time. The suckers will be spotted and hunted down."

"That's what I was thinking," Sawyer whispers weakly. Lilith doesn't even hear the comment. Luckily.

"There will be three watches a night. If everyone has a watch every night, there is a higher chance each night that we will be betrayed. I want this alliance strong. We hunt together, we eat together, we die together. You losers will follow me without question and I will kill you if you disobey me. Do you all understand?" We nod, too disturbed to test Lilith's declaration.

"I will be on watch tonight, Damien will have second watch, and Desire will have third."

I see her plan, and the level of strategy in it makes me tighten my grip on the machete. She will take watch first, letting us simmer down. She'll probably be awake through my watch, making sure I don't try anything. She can sleep easy when Desire's up, because Desire's the closest thing Lilith has to a friend and besides, the One girl won't want to kill someone. I saw her during the bloodbath. She was freaking out.

I killed someone. The little guy from Twelve, Eris, right after Sawyer offed his district partner.

The feeling of his skull cracking against the wall resonates from my fingers up to the deepest parts of my mind. I rub my hand frantically against the gravel floor, but the feeling doesn't go away. It's like a stain.

There's a bloodstain on the wall, too.

I've recovered from the kick to the groin Eris gave me, but not from his dying cries. This isn't the kind of story I wanted to be a part of. I wanted to be a hero, a great character, and sure, a great villain would be good too. But this isn't any of those. I'm just some kid who tried too hard and killed a little boy in my struggle to nowhere.

There aren't windows in the Cornucopia dome, but the electric lights dim from bright white to a muted yellow to tell us "now the night horrors have their time to play".

We're unrolling sleeping bags and blankets, trying to get comfortable on the gravel. Mel- Lilith takes up residence on top of the black Cornucopia. I press my back against the curve of the horn and try to let my mind go blank.

The anthem blasts, effectively driving all the thoughts out of my head but keeping me wide awake. Great. The Capitol seal is projected on the metal ceiling and shifting bodies all around me let me know that the others are watching the projection as well.

First up is the girl from Three. Then Calder appears, his picture grinning just like the boy always did, and Sawyer hisses a bit. His face fades into that of Elmo Acoba, and Ainsley lets out one short, bitter laugh from his sleeping place.

Barke St. Claire is the next face, and Lilith cheers for her kill. Visca Martin is the next dead tribute, and there's no cheers for her death. Districts Nine and Ten have made it safely through the bloodbath, but there's a whoop from Sawyer when Lydia appears on the ceiling.

Sawyer killed my district partner. True, Lydia and I didn't know each other well, but Sawyer killed the girl from my home. And that makes me feel a little betrayed. It probably wasn't to threaten me, but it scares me. I'm the only hope Eleven has now.

Sawyer is cheering again, this time for the girl from Twelve. I wince. My kill is next. Eris's face shimmers into the sky and I try my best to make sure my celebration sounds sincere.

Ainsley rolls over and nods to me, acknowledging my success in the Pack.

The Capitol seal appears again, and by the last strains of the anthem, my heart has shrunk to the size of one of the pebbles I'm lying on. I have to keep my future in mind. My survival depends on that. And every hero has ups and downs on their way to victory. If it was easy, heroes would all be cliché. This is just a minor plot point. There is greater glory in store.

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**Lucky for YOU guys, No Deaths! :)**

**I do not own _The Wizard of Oz_ by L. Frank Baum, _Les Miserables_ by Victor Hugo, or the _Harry Potter_ series by J.K. Rowling.**

**Bit of arena explanation: It's early in the Games culture, and Head Gamemaker Scelestiber has loved to read since before the Dark Days. So, in my HGverse, there are still a few surviving books. And they have been taken to form an arena. Around the Cornucopia dome, there are five mini-arenas, spaced out evenly and entrances to the dome marked by the red curtains. Each of these mini-arenas are based on settings from books (although since most of the books have been made into movies and that's the setting I tend to imagine, the mini arenas look a lot like movie version in my head. Oh well!).**

**In order clockwise from the tail of the Cornucopia we have:**

**-the barricade (on the Rue de la Chanvrerie, at the Corinthe café) from _Les Miserables_**

**_-_the Great Hall of Hogwarts from the _Harry Potter_ series**

**-a yet-to-be-explored section**

**-Munchkinland from _The Wizard of Oz_**

**- a cave whose literary origins are as of yet undiscovered**

**:)**

**Some questions:**

_**What do you think of the arena? What do you think the other part holds? What threats are you expecting?**_

**_Any predictions for future plotlines_?**

**And, of course, please tell me what you thought of the chapter!**


	20. Powerless

**Hello again my dears and I apologize in advance for this chapter because it was very difficult for me to write (emotionally)! It is a bit shorter than normal (minus two POVs) but I'm not going day-by-day so probably less is going to happen per chapter (spreading out the action).**

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**DISTRICT NINE MALE: KNOX BLAKE**

I awake with a splutter as the water washes up right into my face.

Where am I? My heart beats faster and my throat tightens for a second as I start to panic. The vast expanse of water stretching out in front of me, I've never seen anything like it! The sand, warm and damp under my cheek- all foreign to me. I'm not sure where I am, but it's the Hunger Games. That much I can recall.

As the next wave comes in I roll to the left and above the high tide line. The water is salty and it's starting to make my skin feel sticky and stiff. I stand and try to brush some of the sand off my jumpsuit. My glasses are dirty, too, but I can't do much about that aside from dipping them in the ocean and then smearing them on the arena outfit. At least the words on the uniform are a little bit clearer this way- things like _Roger sharpened a stick at both ends _and_ I've got the conch!_. I've got no idea what the point of the writing is, but it's a little freaky.

I should probably get a sense of where I am. I just ran yesterday, after the bloodbath, after I told Lydia her story and she died. I came through the red curtain and then I was here, on a beach. That's all. I was too overwhelmed to do anything but collapse into the sand, sobbing.

My lip starts quivering at the memory of my ally. I blink away the tears yet again, forcing the sorrow down. I barely knew Lydia, even if we were friends and I'll miss her terribly, there's still the entire Games to contend with. She wouldn't want me to give up. She's gone, but another story must begin. I can't let anything overwhelm me again, because I'm going to need my mind intact in order to make it home.

So I start exploring the island. A stretch of open beach leads from the entrance to the Cornucopia room to some curve in the distance where it disappears. On the right of that strip of sand, blue water goes out to the horizon. On the left, a tropical forest thrives with a mountain looming in the background. The forest looks like a really good place to hide, but I'm guessing that's where all the nasty Hunger Games traps are, so I stick to the beach. Just walking carefully along the shore, looking at the area. I don't think many people will end up here, and if they do they'll probably gravitate to the trees.

The beach curves to the left, taking me around the trees and out of sight from the entrance tunnel. I move even slower now, reluctant to walk straight into some nightmarish beast or whatever else the forest might be hiding. But as the beach curves, there's nothing lying in wait. In fact, I'm greeted by… paradise.

I've come upon a little river from the forest that meets the ocean in a sort of lagoon. The trees lining the banks of the stream hang heavy with fruit.

I grin. This might be the perfect place to hide. Food, distance between myself and the other tributes, and- I dip my fingers into the stream and taste the water to make sure- fresh water.

Dashing to the fruit trees, I leap up to grab some of the luscious fruits, but I can't quite reach them. The disadvantages of being a small thirteen-year-old. I make a face before attempting to climb straight up the trunk. I only make it a few feet off the ground before falling. I haven't climbed lots of trees, living in Nine.

Lydia- she climbed lots of trees in Eleven. She showed me how you do it in the training center, on the climbing nets. So this time I carefully place my feet and hands, scaling the trunk until, at last, I can get my hands around a low branch.

Um, what now? I try to push off from the trunk and swing my feet up to the branch, but I'm much too weak and I'm left dangling from the branch. The last resort is to shuffle along the limb inches at a time, which gets my palms pretty scratched up in the process. The fruit along the branch shakes, and I'm almost to the first cluster when the movement of the branch sends them dropping to the ground.

I sigh. There's much bigger clusters higher up, but this is the best I can do right now. Letting go of the tree, I drop the few extra feet to the ground and land next to my new food supply.

The fruit is red-gold, about the size and shape of a pear, and it looks like something you'd find at a feast. It smells fresh and sweet and I just can't stop myself from chomping into one. Juice spurts out all over my face. It's the best thing I've ever tasted. One fruit is gone and another is half-demolished before I slow down and try to savor the taste.

Somewhere in the fruit, there's an acrid tang in the sweet flesh. I spit out the chunk of fruit in my mouth. Could it be poison? Am I dying now? What's that taste anyway? I sniff at the fruit. It just smells sweet.

I should have thought before I even went after those stupid fruits. I could be poisoned right now and dying.

I sit down and pull my knees up to my chest. _Wait and see, wait and see_, I chant to myself. I won't let it overwhelm me. I can't let it drive me into a panic. It won't hurt, I think.

At least half an hour passes and I feel no ill effects. Are they edible then? I pick up another fruit and bite into it- slowly. The bitter taste is right there again. I turn the chunk of fruit over in my mouth, ignoring the way my nervous heart beats faster. The taste disappears.

It's the skin of the fruit! That's what it is, just the skin. I chew and swallow, relaxing.

Well, what if it's slow-acting poison?

If I die, at least I'll die with a full stomach. It's a better way to go than most of the alternatives.

**DISTRICT SIX FEMALE: NOALEE TYLER**

In my dreams Hayden is the one attacking me and opening a huge gash in my stomach. He tells me that he misses me and loves me and wants me to come back, but he's killing me.

Then it's my mother. Hugging me and sobbing and 'you're the best daughter I could have ever had. I wish I had been a better mother' and then she takes out the short sword and cuts me open.

Then it's Ace. Then my father. Then Shiloh, and Aedan, and even Kalen.

But it's never Cathodra Steinmetz. Sometimes I can hear her voice in my ear, hoarse and ragged and full of fear, but she's never hurting me. She's just afraid.

I stumble from the surreal dreams into a very real pain. A deep, keen throb in my belly that drives away the rest of my physical senses. Even my vision is fuzzy and edged with black.

"She's awake!" Aedan's frantic whisper sounds millions of miles away. As I regain my consciousness, I become aware of a blanket draped over me and the pack resting beneath my head.

"Noalee? Noalee, can you hear me?" Shiloh's words are tense and worried. He and Aedan lean over me, their faces looming in the darkness like some sort of two-headed monster.

"Yeah. My ears are fine," I manage, groaning as the pain intensifies, "What about my gut? I feel like someone set my torso on fire."

Aedan gives me a weak grin. "You're… hurt." He shifts uncomfortably before continuing. "Really bad. The wound is really deep- like, you were almost eviscerated. If it wasn't for the bandage, your guts would be exposed. We've had to change the wrappings twice now. You keep bleeding."

I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm inches from death right now. I can't move, the wound is much too grave for that. My internal organs will fall out if I try to do much other than try to pull through and survive. I can't make it through the Hunger Games like this. I'm surprised I even made it to the cave with the boys before I collapsed.

I want to just cry. I'm going to die and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm going to lie here until I bleed out or something else comes along to kill us.

But what's the point of crying? At least I won't be stuck here anymore. And that would only ruin Aedan and Shiloh. No, I can be stronger than that. Nobler than that. But I can't cope with this pain on my own. Painkillers help a lot- at least I'm lucid- but dwelling on the pain only worsens it.

"Hey, guys?" I whisper hoarsely.

Shiloh's back at my side in a flash. Aedan never left. "What happened yesterday evening? Anything that I should know about?" They're both so happy to discuss something other than me.

"I went into the big cave last night with the flashlight," Aedan pipes up, "It's all really uneven and rocky, with the stalagmites and stalactites everywhere. And over there-" he motions vaguely out of our small cave, "-is this cold little pool. I just dipped my fingers in it. Everything's dark. Even the water. There were some little white fish in it, but I'm not going fishing for them anytime soon!"

"There were eight deaths during the bloodbath," Shiloh recounts. I remember that. I remember the cannons. "Visca, my district partner, was one of them." He pauses for a moment.

"I'm sorry," I say, wincing.

"It's all right. I mean, it's not, but at least she's not here. She was terrified of this. Help me, Aedan, who else died?"

"We all saw Cathodra die."

"Yeah, that's right. And the Career boy from Four, Cal. That wasn't good, he was the one we could have actually fought back against. And, um, the boy from Five."

"Elmo, the fire guy," Aedan adds, "and Kalen lived, and Inez." It takes me a second to place Inez as Aedan's district partner. Kalen made it too- good.

Shiloh's keeping track of the dead tributes on his fingers. "Barke St. Claire died, Lydia Fern, and both the kids from Twelve."

"Lydia and Eris and Kyra? That's sad. They were good people." Every word sends new pain through my torso.

"But we're all here. That's really good. We're all still here." Aedan says that like he's trying to make himself believe in it, and I hope it stays true for a while yet.

"Noalee, did you see the arena uniforms?" Shiloh makes an effort to change the topic of conversation.

"I'm wearing one."

"But look!" He holds his sleeve in front of my face. Words, sentences, paragraphs swim before my eyes in the dimness. "Aedan and I used the flashlight to read some of the print last night. It's a story. Some sort of weird story. There are dwarves in it, and goblins, and for the most part it makes no sense. But it's appeared on all of our jumpsuits, so it has to mean something. Aedan thinks it's some sort of code."

"Cool." There isn't much else to talk about, so I try and go back to sleep. At least time moves faster while I'm sleeping, and my wound doesn't hurt. The dreams are terrible, but they're fake. That's better than here.

The sharp, continual pain in my stomach only lets me drift off for tiny intervals, but it's so easy to just lie there and not do anything but focus on breathing- in and out, in and out. It's not easy to ignore the tears that start sliding silently down my cheeks. I'm not quite ready to sleep, not yet.

**DISTRICT NINE FEMALE: RHAIN MILLER**

I'm awake long before Alyx, thanks to the sedatives still in her system. My back cracks as I stand up and meander towards the windows of the huge hall. It feels really good, too, after I slept fitfully. On the floor. Underneath the table that goes perpendicular to the four others. It was the safest place to hide, albeit the place any other tributes would look first. Useful but extremely uncomfortable.

I stare out at the forest, fogging up the glass with my breath. The trees are tall and dense and the underbrush is full of brambles. It looks so wild and dangerous, but I sort of want to explore it. If there were any way to get out of this giant room. I don't want to be stuck in here. I don't like the thought of being trapped in here waiting for my death.

So I stare out at the forest and lose all sense of time.

A shadow moving between the trees catches my attention. There is something in that forest. All desire to go hiking immediately evaporates. I'm really glad now that there's not an entrance to the forest from the hall. That's really, really creepy. There's something out there, and it has to be there for a reason because why would the Capitol put something pointless in their arena?

I hear a few tiny coughs from behind the shorter table. Alyx is finally awake. I quickly return to our sleeping area, kneeling beside my ally.

"Good morning, Rhain," she mumbles, "You look like my mom, standing over me like I've slept through my alarm." Well, at least the pain medication has held out- she's still calm and anesthetized. Enough to hold a coherent speech pattern, at least. That's good enough for me.

"Hi to you too, Alyx. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry!" she cracks a smile. I check in the pack she got from the Cornucopia- not much, two water bottles and three packs of dried fruit. If we're careful, I guess this could keep us alive for the entirety of the Games. Most of them don't last more than two weeks, and with eight gone I don't think this one will take too long at all.

I pull out one pouch of the fruit and tear off the seal, pouring out one handful for each of us. I set Alyx's serving in her good hand and settle down to eat.

"Thanks," Alyx says. I smile, but it's a crooked grin thanks to the still-sore bruise on my jaw.

We eat the fruit quickly, and then there's nothing much to do but sit and wait around for something to happen or for one of us to say something. This place is so calm, it's a little creepy. It's made for lots of people, and yet there are only two scared teenage girls here.

Alyx is always up for a conversation. "Rhain, what's District Nine like?"

"Probably a lot like District Seven, but with no trees," I brush my silvery blonde hair behind my ear as I try to think of a good thing to say about my home. My daughter, and that's about it. Everything else was cruel to me. "There's a lot of grain fields. Lots of overworked people. Lots of little kids in the streets."

"Seven has that too. All the street kids have their own groups and rankings and hierarchies- not gangs, like the kind that fight and sell drugs and stuff, but they stick together. Like street families."

"A family? That sounds pretty nice, actually."

"It was."

What? Alyx has wealthy parents- she talked about them frequently during training. She comes from the nice part of town. How does she know all this about the street kids? "What do you mean, 'it was'?"

"I used to go and hang out with them. I was a different person."

"Alyx, do you feel odd at all? Does it feel like you're still heavily drugged? Lingering sedative maybe?" The Alyx I know never seemed like a street-smart girl. She acted like a rich kid, albeit a nice one.

"No! I used to leave the house and change my clothes and I pretended to be one of them. They are my best friends. Ashe, Soot, Talia, Gamin, Tarie… they're like my siblings!"

I check Alyx's temperature and pulse. She's fine. I mean, she sounds normal, she looks normal, there's no sign that this is some kind of hallucination or babbling fiction. My ally's lived a double life.

Well, that would explain her good training score. She said she wasn't special, but I'm sure hanging out with kids hardwired for survival taught her a thing or two. I suppose she's lucky. She had the friends, but she also had a luxurious life. I remember when I was heavily pregnant I was on the streets for a few weeks before Robin took me in. That was one of the scariest things. I was feeling so sick, and I had to keep not only myself safe, but an unborn child as well.

"Alyx, that's really cool!"

I want to bite my tongue when I see that her eyes are welling up with tears. "I never told them who I was, I never told my parents either. They didn't say goodbye to me, Rhain, I won't ever get to tell them. I can't tell anyone, my parents would be devastated!"

Well… it may not be a figment of her medication, but I don't think Alyx would have told me about her life like this if it weren't for the drugs in her system. "Alyx, I'm sorry. Maybe you'll go back home and be able to apologize. You're a great person. They'd all forgive you, I'm sure of it."

"Rhain, why can't we both go home?" Alyx whispers.

"I don't know, but I wish we could. I would see Hope and you could tell your story."

"I hope we both get home." If only, my dear medicated Alyx. If only.

**DISTRICT TEN MALE: AEDAN ARTHUR**

I have no idea what time it is. The dark cave doesn't let us have any sense of day, night, evening, morning- anything. If I had to guess I would say it's around noon. But really, it's just night all the time. I wish I could sleep around the clock, then I could just find a good hiding place and wait out the Games.

I lay back on the hard stone, frown, and pull the other pack over to put my head on. Shiloh's sitting at the entrance to our cave, keeping watch or at least trying to in the bad lighting, and Noalee is resting a few feet away from me.

I hope with all my heart she doesn't die. She can't die- we need her, she's our ally. She's kept Shiloh and me from losing sight of our goal for days already.

Shiloh said she'd be fine as long as her bleeding stops soon. I trust the younger boy, he's smart, but I can tell he's worried. He keeps pulling out his token, this flimsy little wooden cube, and fiddling with it. He's trying to keep his mind occupied. I've done the same thing while taking an animal to the slaughter pen.

I try to doze off, failing as usual. I can't sleep here, I'm way too stressed out. I hate that, it's a terrible feeling and I'm not used to it.

I try to whistle something happy, but I can't think of a tune and my aimless first few notes almost scare Shiloh out of his skin. "Sorry." I roll over onto my side and shut my eyes again. "Is this it? We just sit around waiting to get killed or go home? I thought the Games would be a lot more eventful. They show more stuff happening on the recaps."

"What else are we supposed to do?" Shiloh replies, "I bet the Careers have set up camp in the center area. They'll take out anyone who tries to switch sections. And we can't waste our flashlight looking for trouble in this section."

I groan and curl up into my favorite sleeping position. Maybe sheer boredom will put me to sleep.

I'm in that quasi-sleep state where you usually get that falling-off-a-cliff feeling when a huge _boom_ racks my body and makes me sit bolt upright in fear.

Shiloh's attentive and scared as well. "I think that was another cannon."

"You think? What else could it have been, the Careers setting off dynamite for giggles? Ainsley Jett tackling a hovercraft?"

"Yeah, but whose?"

"Hey, Noalee, did you hear the cannon? Who do you think it was? Look, we've made it one step closer to home!"

Shiloh comes over to me and sets his hand on my shoulder. I shut up pretty quickly once I realize. We know whose cannon that could have been. We know exactly who could have died.

I hesitate before lunging to the younger girl's side. Shiloh yanks the blanket off of her and examines her bandages. "There's no fresh blood. She stopped bleeding."

"That's good, isn't it? Noalee, please answer me. Noalee, wake up. Please, Noa!"

"Dead people don't bleed." Shiloh rocks back and forth on his heels anxiously.

I shake the girl's shoulder desperately. "Noa, wake up!" What do they always tell you to check? The pulse. I put two fingers right next to her jaw. Nothing. There's no heartbeat, no sign of breathing.

"Aedan…" Shi's voice is shaky and small, like a little kid's.

"No, this isn't- Noa, get up! Open your eyes! Please, Noalee, not you, don't die, please don't die!"

"Aedan, she's- she's…"

"No, she's here! Just like always, she's here and she's doing fine, she has to be! You said so, you said she was going to live!" There's a lump in my throat and I'm brushing away tears every second.

"Aedan, help." Shi buries his face in his hands and makes himself as small as possible, hunched up next to Noalee. Noalee's dead body. "Help me." I stand up, step over Noa's body, and put my arms around the boy from District Eight.

"She's actually gone." I'm startled by my own steadiness. "Shi, she's dead."

"Aedan, I'm scared now. What are we gonna do without her? She was important. We needed her!" Shiloh's shaking as he rubs his right hand over his left wrist.

"I could have saved her."

"We couldn't have done anything. The wound was too deep, she lost too much blood…" my ally falters.

"I could have saved her," I say again- colder, louder, more pain in my voice- "I could have gone with her to the bloodbath, could have fought with her. She DIED, Shiloh, she DIED and we didn't help her at all!" I'm almost screaming. She could be ALIVE right now, I want to shout at the top of my lungs.

"Aedan, she wanted to go alone!" I think I scared Shiloh, and I immediately regret my words, "Aedan, don't think like that. You can't change it, so you have to work through it. She's dead, we have to mourn her, but we have to keep going. That's it. You've gotta focus on the next thing coming, not what happened in the past!"

"Okay, okay," I mumble, "Sorry, Shi. I didn't mean to get angry."

"I know how you feel. Getting angry means losing control. And keeping yourself in control is just as difficult."

"_Shiloh, she's dead._" I tighten my grip around the boy from Eight's shoulders, trying to find some sort of comfort in my fellow man. He shivers in my hug but doesn't protest. I don't know how he's kept himself so calm through this, I wish he would do something that would let me know that he's upset. I don't want either of us to be scared or sad, I feel so helpless. The tears start leaking out of my eyes. "How could she be dead?" My voice cracks on the last word.

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**Noalee Tyler, District Six**

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**thgfan9, Noalee was a beautiful character who was so much fun to write for and her alliance dynamic was so great and really this was not a fun chapter to write because I loved her. But the injury she got was fatal and her survival, most unfortunately, wasn't going to fit in the plotline here. I'm terribly sorry because she was one of my favorites and probably one of the most emotional death scenes for me personally in a while. She will be sorely missed. :'(**

**The last section of the arena has been revealed! The island from _Lord of the Flies_ by William Golding (which *disclaimer* I do not own!). :)  
And the cave, as some of you have guessed, is indeed from _The Hobbit__._**

**So, no POVs from the Careers OR the Anti-Careers, we'll return to them next chapter. :)**

**Tell me what you thought!**


	21. Too Late to Apologize

**Sorry about missing an update, I had a difficult week :/**

**This chapter is fairly similar to the last in regard to length and action. The next one, things start to pick up a bit!**

**Enjoy, and please remember to review!**

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**DISTRICT SIX MALE: KALEN RAM**

I'm bored. This isn't serving any purpose- we're just sitting here, waiting to die. Marlee's asleep, drugged up on painkiller. Frankly, I'm glad she's out cold- if she was awake she'd be whining about her fingers. That could attract enemies and that's not the kind of relief I really want for my boredom. Her screams are piercing and irritating and the brooding silence is an improvement.

Off to one side, Andras is sitting on the barricade in the little cranny he's claimed as his throne. He says his position is for surveillance, but I wouldn't be surprised if he just wants to keep his back to us. Now that we're actually in the Games, we're less active than we were during training. This is just pathetic. Hard work is what keeps people sharp and respectable, and what are we doing? Nothing.

"Andras!" I call out from my spot in the doorway of the little café, "What are we doing now? It's past noon and nothing's happened!"

"Today? We wait." His words are clipped and dark.

"We could be taking out the threats. I bet the pack is hunting today. We could get to them. They wouldn't expect an assault so early in the Games. This laziness- it's pointless and weak. We could be getting ahead."

"What, with three people against five? In our alliance, only one member is trained. In theirs, only one isn't. We'll wait until Marlee's shock has worn off before going after them."

"I think you're underestimating us," Phi steps up from the other end of the barricade, "Don't forget, Pretty Boy, I've killed people."

Andras scoffs. "You've killed _a person._"

Phi strolls over to stand by me. "No, people. I've killed before the arena. You might have the advantage of training, but in regards to prior experience, I still have the upper hand."

"You know nothing of my life in Two!" Andras stands, his eyes blazing as he sneers down at us. "You can speak _nothing_ of prior experience!"

Phi shrugs, but he mutters in my ear, "Self-righteous anger. I hit him where it hurts." As the boy from Three lopes back to his spot on bandy legs, I follow.

"You've killed before?" Ah- crap. My voice sounds like a child who wants a story, not conveying the suspicion I meant it to.

"Yeah." Phi seems wary of the answer, like I would use it against him. Like I'd try- an experienced killer is most likely stronger and less cautious than I am. And in the case of Phi Pandit, I'm sure he could finish me off pretty quickly.

"Really? In District Three- and you walked away a free man?" In Six, Peacekeepers will investigate a murder thoroughly… unless the victim is too much of a peasant to matter. "Who'd you even kill?"

"A Peacekeeper. It wasn't like the law enforcers had a lot of time to track me down, though." As a fellow lawbreaker, a feat like this intrigues me. Peacekeepers are difficult to fight and they're usually surrounded by cronies.

"That's impressive. What did you do, kill him on the way to the train?" Phi barks out a short, harsh laugh, but doesn't answer right away. Instead, he traces the spokes of a wagon wheel with one finger and looks at me with one heavy brow raised… waiting? For what? I mean, Phi was at the reapings and no Peacekeepers arrested him there. They couldn't have known about it then.

Phi is a volunteer. "You ran from the crime scene. You volunteered. Sneaky bastard." The boy from Three smirks.

"Smart thinking, Kalen."

"So you killed a guy and then volunteered to keep yourself out of trouble. Um, it seems like that's a roundabout way to keep yourself 'safe'. Why'd you kill him in the first place?"

"He was making unwanted advances towards my friend. She couldn't have taken care of the problem without risking her whole future. Seeing as everyone in the district hates me anyway, I was able to take the job without too much worry when she asked for my help. His death solved the problem."

I nod conspiratorially, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Phi is blunt, unfriendly, and quick to anger, but distancing myself from him would be a bigger danger to me than sticking close to this teenage killer. If anyone is on my side when this alliance inevitably fails, I'd prefer it to be this kid. To Andras we're pawns, not people, and Marlee's useless at this point.

"And what about you, Six? I saw the recaps. You stole your token from the escort."

"Force of habit," I shrug it off and act nonchalant, "My father works in the Capitol and I refuse his money, so I have to get my own somehow."

Phi utters his short, sharp laugh again. "Hah! Is there a work shortage in Six, or do you just prefer the dark side?"

"I work. I work just as hard, perhaps harder, than anyone in my district. Legality just isn't an issue, and I prefer my own schedule."

Phi nods, sneering at nothing in particular. "I'm surprised you're in this alliance then. Aside from the Careers, it's as far as you can get from 'your own schedule'. Pretty Boy shut down your big idea just a few minutes ago."

"Maybe he'll get shut down himself, soon enough. He's too lazy to last."

"Not lazy. Perfectionist. Whatever plan he has, he's depending on it to go smoothly. Too cautious." Phi looks at me curiously. "Would you do it?"

"Yeah, if this keeps up. Would you help?" I hold my breath as I wait for Phi's answer.

"If there's something in it for me," the boy from Three smirks.

**DISTRICT ONE MALE: AINSLEY JETT**

Pushing my way through the dense underbrush to rejoin my allies, I scowl at the trees and vines around me. This is not hunting, this is hiking. Miserable, humid, sweaty hiking. The Pack chose the absolute worst place to search today- a thick jungle. Flies buzz constantly, swarming my ears and eyes and just waiting for me to collapse. There are gnats in my teeth and rocks in my shoes. The knife wound on my upper right arm where the girl from Seven stabbed me started bleeding again and my whole arm aches. And the hunt is fruitless. Five Careers and not a single cannon fired for us all day. The only death so far was the cannon we heard as we were eating this morning.

I emerge from the jungle onto the narrow beach. Lilith and Sawyer are already there, waiting impatiently for the rest of us. Sawyer nods curtly to me as I come to stand by her, Lilith only sneers.

"See anyone?" Sawyer asks.

I shake my head angrily. "No, you?" The girl from Four gives me a thumbs-down sign. "Where is Desire? I thought she'd be the first one back."

"Desire went around the curve of the beach. She just hasn't come back yet." I nod and we fall silent. Lilith still doesn't speak.

After a few more minutes, Desire comes into view around the curve of the beach. She's smiling, and I begrudgingly allow myself a little bit of hope. My district partner? Could she have found someone? Something of use?

She approaches. "There's definitely someone here! I found fruit cores and footprints around the other side of the beach. The prints were headed into the trees, and I followed, but they disappeared pretty quickly in the plants and stuff. I though it looked like they were headed towards this side?"

"Great, another failed mission," I mutter. This is the best time to be hunting- when the other tributes are still nervous from the bloodbath and the Pack holds the advantage. Desire was sort of our last chance of the day, and this information does us no good. Still, it's something.

"Did you see anyone? Jumpsuit, district recognition, health status?" The girl from Four grills Desire on her discovery.

My district partner falters. "Um… no, none of that. But I found evidence! That's better than you guys, right?" She folds her arms across her chest and glares at Sawyer, who backs down for once. I smirk. For someone who's only trained for two years and compares weapons to clothes, Desire's got some serious spunk.

Sawyer turns to Lilith. "We're all here, what now?" It's obvious that she hates deferring to Lilith like this, but it's the smart thing to do. Placate the monster until it's safe to strike back.

"Since you all managed to disgrace yourselves in the hunt," Lilith sniffs, "we will be returning to the Cornucopia dome. Damien's incompetent anyway- we'll need to return to make sure he hasn't let anyone slip through his fingers while we were gone." She leads the way down the beach to the red curtain, Sawyer striding just far enough behind to keep out of Lilith's reach. I fall back to match Desire's pace. The blonde girl is pouting again.

"Hey, Desire, you could have done worse. Too bad you didn't get a kill. You're the only one of us whose record is still blank."

"Yeah? You could have done better today. Gotten another kill for yourself," she snaps moodily.

"Killing isn't all it's cracked up to be. Training has it wrong. It's not some glorious feat or this be-all end-all of your training career."

Desire has this relieved look in her eyes, like she finally thinks I'm human. "So… you killed that pyro boy from Five. If it's not so great… does it hang over you? Are you guilty?"

I scoff. "No, it's not that. I don't regret any of my actions in the bloodbath. But dealing the blow is… odd. I felt guilty about killing someone before I did it, but after… it didn't hurt as bad as the Victors say." It's true. You hear about the rush of regret at taking someone's life, the horrible dreams. I tried to prepare myself for those feelings, but it wasn't that bad. Yeah, I killed someone, but all it meant to me was one less competitor.

Desire's face falls.

"Look, Desire, it's the fear beforehand that messes me up. They just look terrified, and that's something you don't see in training. You're not used to it. So… you feel sorry. And for me, the killing blow is like a relief. I don't want to feel pity." The girl nods.

We reenter the Cornucopia dome, starling Damien who raises his sword before realizing that it's just his allies. Lilith retreats to the mouth of the Cornucopia and Sawyer strides around the back. Almost instinctively, the rest of us follow the girl from Four.

When she notices that we're all there except for Lilith, she grins. "Good. That monster needs to die."

Damien and I nod in agreement, Desire bites her lip before nodding as well. "Look, you guys, this alliance won't get anywhere with her leading it. We need to strike soon, get it back. She's still too tense right now, she's always armed. And she didn't sleep at all last night. We need to lull her into a false sense of superiority."

"Don't you mean security?" Desire asks.

"No." Sawyer's blushing. "She needs to think that we've accepted her as leader. So don't question her, don't talk back. If we play this out right we could get rid of her by tomorrow night." It's an easy agreement and we disperse. Lilith didn't even notice us huddled together on the other side of the black Cornucopia.

"Ainsley," Desire whispers. I follow her and we sit against the base of the horn. "Ainsley, this is all overwhelming." Her voice is shaking.

"What do you mean?"

"Melody- Lilith- she threatened me. I'm her second in command. I'm the easiest one for her to take down when we fight back. I don't want that sort of choice. I don't want that power if it comes with a threat like hers."

"We're district partners. I'll watch your back."

**DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: ALYX FAITH**

I know I'm in trouble when my mind clears up. "Rhain, my face!" I stand up and stagger across the great hall to one of the long dining tables.

"What?" The girl from Nine just stares at me confusedly.

"It _hurts_!" I try my best to press my right hand on both temples. "Headache, migraine, stress, something! It hurts!" I wail. Rhain glances out the window, no doubt trying to gauge the time from the sun.

"I think the pain medicine is wearing off," she bites her lip, "I don't think we'll be able to get sponsors like that again. Sorry, Alyx, you'd better brace yourself." She goes to pat my back but thinks better of it. We don't know the extent of the damage.

Memories of last night, the dreams, this morning, our conversations, suddenly flood my formerly hazy mind.

For a moment, everything stops. "Rhain, what did we talk about this morning?"

"Home," she speaks bluntly.

"Yours or mine?"

"Yours. District Seven. Your friends, family… life."

I groan. I told her? I told her everything? No! The one memory that I had hoped was a dream is the one that's real. I would prefer having Ainsley Jett come after us again. I gave myself away on national television- my parents will be so ashamed. I was reaped and I had been hiding something- their beloved daughter, hiding something. And I never had the chance to apologize. "Please tell me I only talked about my parents and my life at home," I whisper. Please, Rhain, there has to be some way of hiding it.

"You talked about your friends, I think?" She's puzzled more than anything. "You said you liked playing pranks, messing around. You talked a lot about this one girl- Talia? Is that it? It was odd. You never mentioned them before." Rhain sounds hurt.

I want to throw up. Oh gosh, I told her everything! Everyone knows! My lip quivers for a moment before I start crying. The sobs make my shoulder ache more, the pain driving deeper into my bones, but I ruined everything. For my friends, my parents. Not me. I'm too far gone to be ruined now. "Come on, Alyx, what's wrong?"

"You were never supposed to know that. No one was," I whimper, "I didn't want to hurt them that badly. I lied to all of them, and now I'll never have the chance to fix any of it!"

"I'm sorry, honey, but you can't help it now. Maybe it's better. This isn't you, but that girl-the one who hangs out with Talia and still loves and helps her parents- that's still you. Maybe it's better for them to know the truth… just in case."

My entire body trembles violently as the throbbing in my shoulder rebounds. "Rhain," I manage to groan before I double up and cradle my arm against my stomach, clenching my jaw against the pain. Once again I feel like someone's crushing my left shoulder joint and all I want to do is make it stop make it stop make it stop!

"Alyx, just let it out, if you let the pain build up in your mind it'll only damage you more."

I won't. I won't be weak again, this is when I need to be strong. Otherwise, where will I be for the rest of the Games? Dependent on my ally? I won't do that to us. It'll only get us killed faster.

I squeak in pain and my face contorts in a grimace. Through my tears I can see Rhain's distressed face, but I'm doing it, I'm controlling myself. I have to bite my tongue to choke back a sob, but I. Won't. Give. Up. Now. Even when I'm curled up next to a long wooden table in some Hunger Games arena, I won't.

A gray mist descends on the other side of the windows, hiding the forest from our sight and giving the air a dank chill. I squeeze my eyes shut and huddle closer to Rhain, hand still hovering protectively over my injured shoulder.

"Alyx…" whispers the other girl in a wavery voice, "Alyx, what's that?" Her light eyes are staring fearfully at the windows. I glance around, still more focused on the pain.

All at once a dark shadowy thing drifts in front of the nearest window. A hooded figure- floating, shrouded in a ragged black cloak. It places a skeletal hand- it looks like rotting flesh- on the glass and even through the window I can hear a low, rattling breath. Frost forms.

A cold wind whirls around Rhain and me and the pain in my shoulder is rendered a minor issue. I feel like… death. Like everything good is being dragged away. Like I'm turning into a shell. I hear little kids in the distance, screaming.

I know those voices. Tarie, my friend from Seven. Her younger siblings as they were carted away to the orphanage.

It's my parents, screaming too. Presumably as I die onscreen.

It's me. Screaming. I'm screaming.

The thing removes its ghastly hand from the window and glides on. I'm left numb, cold, and the crushed shoulder feels like it's not even there.

And Rhain is sitting beside me on the long bench, sobbing and twitching and curled up into a ball. "Rhain!" She doesn't even notice. "Rhain, can you hear me?" What's happening to her? She's falling to pieces, I can't lose her!

"He's here, he's here, he hurt me, no hope no hope no hope," she manages, in a haunted whisper. Her eyes are faraway and glassy. "Never happy again, no peace, no hope."

"Rhain, we're fine, my shoulder already hurts again." Shaken, afraid, but still alive.

"No… hope…" Wait- Hope is her daughter's name!

"Hope's fine. Your girl is safe, Rhain!"

"But he's not mine, Alyx, she's _his_ too!"

That's what the cold- the fear- brought her. And we're both incapacitated now.

**DISTRICT TEN FEMALE: INEZ CARMEN**

The sun is setting over Munchkinland, the red and yellow bricks in the town square fiery in the dimming light. I've been working nonstop, just trying to help these little people do… whatever. I'm just trying to stay on their good side now. They're mutts no matter how they are acting now. I need to stay alert.

Even as I've interacted with them today, I've noticed weird things. They only seem to know three conversations- the introduction conversation, something about history and some sort of wicked witch, and explaining how to do chores. And they all have the same routine. It's almost synchronized.

Strangest of all, they basically shut down when I'm not looking. They will just stop and sit there like broken machines until I turn around. I've spun around fast several times and seen them coming back to life. Like robots. And they don't interact with each other, not really, unless I'm watching. And even then it's only a simple, cheery greeting.

I'm working in the gardens with the wizened old lady who first greeted me yesterday. She gets dangerous if I don't do the work- her eyes go flinty and she gets really quiet- but when I'm trying my best she has a smile pasted on her muttation face and she's patting the dirt alongside me with old-lady hands. I do notice that she's got really long fingernails. They're practically claws.

"Now, dearie, water that small blue violet, would you? It's a favorite of mine, I make sure to give it special care." I pick up a royal blue watering can and sprinkle water on the bright flower. The Munchkin lady smiles.

I set down the can and return to weeding, which is what I've been doing most of the afternoon. It wouldn't surprise me if the Munchkins would work me to death- but hey, it's better than being discovered by the Careers.

Isadora would be here, figuring out what to do next. I'm sure she'd be ahead of the game, already figuring out the Munchkins' purpose and programming and trying to get ready for the inevitable conflicts. I'm just helping muttations with the landscaping. Sometimes I'm just too _polite_. I do whatever is asked of me. That's not what is needed here. The arena is where spontaneity survives, not morality.

Which, right now, spells my death. Unless I can manage to find a balance of the two that would mean I could survive as myself. But in the Games? Balance doesn't exist.

Isadora told me to survive, to forget about being straight-laced. Forget about being proper.

She would say that. She's always wanted me to be… well, more like her. Imagine, my little sister actually being worldly wise.

A little nagging voice inside of me says _and if your choices are being stuck with possibly demonic Munchkins or changing a little bit, maybe change is the better choice._ I push it down. I make my own choices here, and isn't it more important to stay yourself than to become a murderer, a child celebrity, unrecognizable?

I think it's more important to stay alive.

The sun has set, leaving streaks of blue and indigo in the starry dark sky. I can barely see the flowers anymore, so I stand up, brush the dirt off my hands and knees, and thank the little old lady for allowing me to help her.

"No, thank you, dearie!" she pats my hand before hobbling off to one of the other little houses. Even mutts need their sleep, I guess. I stretch and go off to the little place that I was given yesterday night. It's an empty house, but I have to bend over to move around in it and I can barely fit on the bed.

I should be grateful. The other tributes will be sleeping on floors, on rocks, or they won't get sleep at all. I'm extremely lucky. It only makes me wonder what I'll end up with later on. No one is lucky like this in the Hunger Games.

A light shines in the little round window and I hurry outside once more as the anthem blasts. No Munchkins watch the sky, it's only me. There was one cannon earlier. I need to know who it is. As the Capitol seal disappears from the sky, the girl from Six appears. Noalee. I didn't know her, I can't feel much for her death, but then I remember that she was one of Aedan's allies. He thought she was great. They were friends, Aedan and Noalee and Shiloh. And from what I've seen of Aedan, losing a friend like that will devastate him.

I whisper 'goodbye' as she too fades into the stars.

That's it. The Capitol anthem plays again and all is quiet. I retreat into my little safehouse and curl up on the bed. I'm so much better off than the other- the Capitol won't like that. It won't be long before they chase me out of here. Maybe, if I get out myself, they'll leave me alone. That's probably the best plan.

I hope my sister's proud of me now. Trying to come home, willing to do something against _who I am_ to return. I'm not happy about it, but if I'm too much of a coward to die myself then this will have to do. Here I go, Isadora, taking your advice. I don't even know what I'll do with it, but there'll be a time, soon, when I'll find out.

And I'll just have to hope that survival is more important than my old moral code.

* * *

**Haha, a chapter full of dementors and possible subplots! XD**

**No deaths (lucky for you).**

**Tell me what you thought!**


	22. Release the Mutts

**Entering Day Two of the arena! XD And I'm late again, ugh. School's started. Yippee.**

* * *

**DISTRICT TWO FEMALE: 'LILITH' LARK**

When Sawyer steps down from the Cornucopia, my eyes snap open and my fingers tighten around the cold hilt of my sword. She can't kill me now, I wasn't ever truly asleep. I haven't had more than a half hour of rest at a time. I'm a leader, and my underlings will not- they will NOT- catch me off guard. I'm always in control- my father taught me that skill years ago.

My eyelids are drooping already. I jump to my feet, arranging my face in a snarl, and internally smirk at Sawyer's startled expression. I could kill her. Right now, as she's hesitating. I could spill her lovely crimson blood…

No. She's a strong ally. She'll be useful when we fight. Today we will fight. Yesterday was boring- that big jungle island, it was boring. There was too much space to cover as a group and even split up we didn't catch any frightened little tools. Desire found someone's footprints, but she was incapable of bringing us a catch. I was disappointed in her- she looks perfect, with her light skin, blonde curls, and blue-gray eyes. She could have done better, I'm sure of it. Maybe she's playing the part of the cat, letting the mouse think it has run free. Ooh, that would be smart.

I smack the flat of my blade on the black metal of the Cornucopia. "Everyone up!" I bawl, "Early hunting today! There will be kills- there will be death in the name of our Pack!" Sawyer's already up, and I have to hide a huge yawn from her. Desire scrambles up out of her sleeping bag in fear, smoothing down her hair with her hands and blinking furiously. Damien, the useless pig, groans from his place on the ground and pulls the fabric over his head.

I sidle over to him before kicking him sharply in the side. "Get up!" I growl, "Get up this instant or I will slit your throat right here and right now!" His eyes snap open in terror and he rolls away from me. Of course, I'll slit his throat soon anyway- say, if he doesn't get a kill before tonight. I won't have any worthless outer district untrained tools in my Pack.

Ainsley is standing up by the time I move back to Desire and Sawyer. He's much better than Damien, much more successful. Still lesser than me, but useful. And powerful. I have to say, I'd prefer Andras.

And killing a district partner would be the sweetest irony in the whole Games… the red blood coating Andras's face, his glazed-over eyes… I can just imagine it.

"What curtain will we be going through today, Melody?" Ainsley mutters, standing right behind Desire. I flick my eyes around the room before pointing at the curtain directly across from the mouth of the Cornucopia. "Sounds like a plan."

"We'll be hunting as a full pack today, and we are going to stay out, no breaks, until we've killed at least one tribute. If the kill is early in the day, we'll break for lunch and then continue until we've gotten another kill."

"Whatever." Sawyer's still snappy. Oh, I'd hate to kill off one of the best killers in the Games so early… it could be nice to have the finale with her. In fact, it would be glorious. A true battle, with the ruby blood flying everywhere and the screams echoing through the dome!

"Please tell me we get breakfast before going hunting," Damien says, finally arriving at the conversation with his ugly stupid eyes still bleary with sleep.

"Of course we do, idiot! I should relieve you of yours for that moronic question, but since you'll be hunting today you need sustenance."

"Are we leaving a guard?" Desire asks quickly, "I'd be… I'd be happy to stay behind. I have a feeling that someone will come through this area today. I could definitely make sure they don't get away with any of our supplies!"

I smile. "Yes, Desire, you can guard today." Good. I can keep my worst enemies under my thumb during the hunt, and the loyal girl can stay behind. I see her share a look with her district partner, that Ainsley. I'm sure he's jealous of her strategy- he wishes he could think as far ahead as she can. I'm certain of it.

I go and choose food for the morning- canned peaches, peanut butter, and a box of saltines, that's good. Five bottles of water- each of us can only take a few swallows during this meal, though. The rest will be to wet our throats while hunting. I regret the fact that we cannot drink blood- that would be much more satisfying.

Bringing the food to my soldiers, I pass it to Desire to divide amongst the others and take a seat in the mouth of the Cornucopia. "Sit!" I bark. Three of them plop down right away, while Sawyer lowers herself reluctantly. She's not satisfied with me as leader anymore. Oh well, her death will be lovely no matter what place she takes. I can hope she's not got Ainsley and Damien on her side as well- I doubt it, they're too cowed by my presence to mutiny. Perhaps I can arrange an accident for the girl so I don't have to risk anything- but I can still paint myself bloody when she dies.

I take my share of breakfast from Desire and shove a slimy slice of peach into my mouth. "Are we ready to head out as soon as we eat?"

"Just gotta grab the weapons, Lilith," Damien mumbles.

"Good. We'll have to hurry. Eat faster!"

"We're all going to end up with indigestion. Slower eating is better for your gut. It keeps you steady for longer." Once again Sawyer's glaring at me.

"Yeah, well, we're going to have to hunt for longer today, so I don't care what you feel like. Just eat something and get going already!" I'm shoveling peanut butter crackers down my throat.

"Whatever," she mutters, wolfing down her own food.

Maybe she can be trained after all?

**DISTRICT EIGHT MALE: SHILOH TYNE**

"Aedan, what time is it?"

"I don't know, I gave up keeping track of that when… you know… she…" My ally sighs and rolls over on his side, turning away from me.

"Yeah, I get it. And it's too dark in here to figure out night and day, it's just always… cavey and dark." I try and pull my knees even closer to my chest, making myself as small as possible. "We could leave. You know they'll try and flush us out soon- it's the second full day of the arena. There have only been nine deaths. They'll want several today, and several tomorrow before giving us a break."

"They took Noalee, everyone loved Noa. They'll leave us alone. They want to break us now," Aedan says darkly, "They'll find some other poor kid to torment." He sits back up and faces me. The lighting's so bad I can hardly see his face, but I can tell his eyes are full of brokenness. "Why would they come back to us so soon?"

"Why not us? Besides, I miss light."

Aedan manages a grin. "Hey, Shi, don't worry. We'll get back to the light. We're already lighter than so many of the other- have you seen Ainsley Jett? That guy can't understand a single pun!" There's the Aedan I remember, the boy who came up and _willingly spoke_ to me. It's not the exact same, he's more melancholy, but he's Aedan again. I laugh long and loud. "Oh, come on Shi, that was a horrible joke!" I can imagine the fair-haired, freckled boy flushing red.

"Ah well, you tried!" He rolls his eyes at me.

"Shiloh, you don't know the first thing about comedy."

And that would be because everyone preferred teasing me to talking with me, I think to myself, but luckily I'm still adept at hiding my feelings. "Sure, whatever." Aedan pushes me lightly, but I'm not expecting it and I topple over. "Whoa!"

"Shiloh, you'd better work on that balance before the Capitol wants us to fight again!" We laugh until we grasp the enormity of Aedan's statement- our chuckles falter and fade pretty much immediately after that. We can't just wait around until the rest of them all die, and we won't be able to survive together. We've lost one member of the alliance, and the Capitol will be eager to see which of us goes next.

In fact, I think that the next time we're made to fight, either Aedan or I will die. Biting my lip, I turn my gaze to the ground and try not to focus on that anymore.

"Shiloh? Shi, you okay?" Well I'm certainly not going to mention that to my ally.

"Yeah… fine, I guess. Just sad. It's getting harder and harder to focus, Aedan, and not want to tear myself down for every single thing wrong that happens." I suppose it's true, but it's a lie all the same. I'm good at hiding things and lying.

"That doesn't sound okay to me."

"Well I'm just as okay as you are."

"Which means you're not okay at all." Aedan sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "Do you know what I feel like right now?" I shrug and shake my head. "I wanted Noa in our alliance. I wanted to be friends with her. I reached out. And now she's dead. Because we didn't help her. Because she went out alone, for us, and then got hurt. And I just wanted people that I could help, that I could talk to and maybe we could pull through together, you know?"

"I'm still here. You're still a good guy, Aedan. You're the friendliest person I've met. Ever. And Noa joined us because she wanted to, not because you bullied her in or anything. And I'm still here because hey, no one's been as nice to me as you have."

I feel like he doesn't even hear me. "Shiloh, she's dead because she wanted to get those supplies, for all of us, and we never even tried to jump out there and keep her safe! It's my fault she's dead now. I can't deal with that. I can't!" He's standing up now, making wild gestures and getting louder and louder.

"Aedan, you're scaring me," I whisper, edging away from him.

I think I manage to snap him back into the scenario at hand. "Oh, Shi, I'm sorry. It's just, I've never dealt with anger like this before… I've always been able to put up with things and not let them get to me."

The scars on my forearms and wrists tingle. "Lucky you," I mutter, "You get to feel like you're worth something."

"Hah! I don't feel like that right now! I let a friend die. I feel worthless! I'd prefer death to life right now!" Aedan hollers at me, tears welling up in his eyes. It's like a punch to the gut. _I feel worthless. I'd prefer death to life right now._ It repeats over and over in my mind- I've said that before, those exact words. I told myself that when I held my father's pocketknife over my wrist for the first time, when I goaded myself into self harm.

And it feels like you're the worst thing in the world. I've been there, I know exactly what Aedan feels. I won't stand for it. No one needs to hurt that much. I won't let someone fall into that same despair right in front of me. I stand up and pull up the sleeves of my jumpsuit, shocking myself with my own audacity.

"Aedan, do you see these scars? You know how I got them? By feeling the _same way you're feeling right now_. It sucks, dude. Don't. Don't tell yourself that. It only-" I choke up, "It only gets worse."

We fall into a hug, sinking to our knees. That's it- that had better be the end of it. If we're still here, we can be all right.

But I'm still trembling.

**DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: SAWYER AURORA**

Everyone's armed, so we start heading towards the door. Melody- this is all ridiculous, I'm not calling her Lilith anymore- leads, but I follow so closely on her heels we're basically side by side. Desire's stayed behind- it's obvious how nervous and reluctant she is.

The boys are following me, not Melody. I'm sure of it. After I made sure they were on my side, it just got obvious how much all of us are willing to mutiny. I know the importance of a good story, though- let the suspense build up. Let the Capitol wait on the edge of their seats. When the moment's right, we'll strike, garnering even more support for our alliance.

I've still got to worry about that District One pair. Ainsley is a powerful guy- dangerous to fight. Desire isn't as much of a physical threat, but I'm afraid they're getting too close. District partners though they are, an alliance within my pack is too unpredictable. If they make a move after Melody dies, then what? Me and Damien against Ainsley and Desire? That's too well matched for me to be comfortable. And who knows whose side Damien would actually be on?

I shake off the worry. Melody isn't even dead yet, nothing of the sort will happen. We push past the red curtain and find ourselves facing a small wooden door. Adjusting my grip on the spear as I wait for the others to catch up with Melody and me, I prepare to burst into another section of the arena.

Melody motions for us to rush the door; I lead the charge into… wherever… we… are. Everything's made of rainbows, sunshine, flowers- although there is an awful lot of the color blue. There are no tributes or mutts in sight, but I keep seeing things move out of the corner of my eye. But whenever I turn my head, all I see are brightly colored houses and the road paved with yellow bricks. The frustration makes me curl my lip in a snarl.

"What now?" Damien wonders aloud. Melody holds up her hand, telling him to shut up and let her think.

There's not a lot of thinking to be done before something moves right in front of us.

"What are they? Sky dwarves?" Ainsley balks. He could be right- little people, wrinkly and old and smiley and… dressed in all blue. Whoa. Blue overload.

"Welcome to the land of the Munchkins!" one of the little old people chirps at us.

"The who?" I'm confused, but I keep my spear at the ready. These little guys won't be friendly.

"Munchkins," Damien seems oddly at ease, "They're people from a book I read once- pretty friendly if I'm remembering correctly."

"This is the arena, any friendliness got wiped out of them!" I hiss back.

"Why welcome us?" Melody spits at them, "When there are fights to be had?"

"Shut up!" I snap at her. She doesn't pay attention, there's too much fire in her eyes. She doesn't know what to do with the muttations, she just knows attack and defend. And since they're not attacking- she will. I leap forward to stop her, but it's too late. Two Munchkins fall dead to the ground before I get ahold of Melody's arm.

"The Wicked Witch! The Witch!" the remaining Munchkins scream. The _what?_ I'm shocked to see more of the child-sized people pouring from flowery hedges, houses, and just materializing onto the yellow brick road.

"Fall back!" I yell, pushing Damien and Ainsley towards the door. Melody isn't listening, she's advancing on the Munchkin hordes, ready for a battle. Ainsley makes a move towards her, but I shove him back. "Leave her, you're too loyal to that psycho already."

The great clash of Munchkin and Evil Human Thing from District Two is a spray of blood and a sharp, piercing scream. Melody's. It's not the same cry that 'Lilith' uttered during the bloodbath, it's a plea for help- the scream of a little seventeen-year-old girl.

Melody's overwhelmed by the little blue people in an instant, and I can see a flash of blonde hair, a glimpse of the cream jumpsuit, a rivulet of crimson blood.

Ooh, this is quite nice. Standing by and watching my rival get killed. One bloodcurdling scream and the frenzy quiets. A cannon fires, loud and ringing in my ears. When my senses clear up I'm aware of exactly one thing. The Munchkins are looking right at me now.

Oh crap, they're coming back. "The Wicked Witch is dead once more," announces a little old wizened lady. There's blood dripping from her teeth and fingernails- as I observe her up close I can see they're more like fangs and talons.

The rest of the Munchkins pick up the chant. "The Wicked Witch is dead once more! The Wicked Witch is dead once more!" They close in around us. "The other witches must die as well! Death to the Big People!"

"Um, we didn't know her," I point to the mangled carcass lying on the yellow bricks. The Munchkin army growls in unison. "Guys, run!" We haul butt out the door and back to the Cornucopia dome. Even through the red curtain we can hear them howling for blood and banging on the door. Guess they can't leave their mini-arena. Good.

Panting, I lean over and rest with my hands on my knees. Desire's running over to us, fear showing clearly on her face. "What happened? Whose cannon was that?"

"Melody. Evil dwarves or something," I gasp out in a ragged voice, "We are not hunting again until I can get us reorganized!" The boys manage a nod, but they're freaking out just as much, or as more as me.

Well, the Pack is back. And I've got full leadership, and no mutineers, once again.

**DISTRICT NINE MALE: KNOX BLAKE**

It's easier to disappear when you're among trees, it really is. That's the only thing that saved me from being discovered- by the Careers, no less! I was just sitting at the treeline trying to stay out of the sun when Desire Blanchard rounded the corner. I only had a few seconds to disappear and I managed it.

I'm a little overexcited about my escape- I was terrified at the time, but that was like a day ago. Now, it just makes me giddy. I, thirteen-year-old Knox Blake from the lowly District Nine, escaped the Careers! It's the little things now, I have to focus on the happy details, otherwise any hope I still have will disappear as easily as I did among the trees.

I reach over and pick up a fruit from my heap of supplies. That's really the only thing I have to do here- eat, sleep, hike, and swim. It's almost paradise. I mean, I'm sure there's something the Capitol has hidden here- there's plenty of island that I haven't yet explored. But at the beach's edge everything is calm.

Someone else died a little while ago. That makes a total of ten deaths- fourteen still alive on the second full day, that's not too bad really. I'm sure that'll change soon. Maybe even in the next few hours. Maybe there's a fight happening right now.

I'm aware of footsteps suddenly approaching in the sand. I've got ample time to dash into the forest, but I'm curious. The Careers aren't so quiet, and I can't hear more than one set of feet shuffling through the sand. A loner? Who else is even a loner right now? Maybe an alliance split. It could be someone who was alone when the Games started. Who would that even be?

I see a shadow and press myself against a thick tree trunk. I can see the person, but they can't look into the shadows of the trees and spot me.

It's a girl, dark curly hair, average height. Coppery skin. District Ten, I think. Then she turns her face to the jungle, confirming my ideas. Yeah, it is. It's Inez Carmen. I liked her. I think she would be a good older sister or something.

And to think I had a fleeting thought of killing the person about to round the corner. I couldn't do that, I never could. Inez looks frazzled, like she just walked through a windstorm. There are rips in her jumpsuit and a gash across her cheek. I bite my lip. She looks like she just wants some comfort… but who knows, she could have been fighting. I think of the cannon. She could be fresh from her first kil, what do I know? I know nothing for sure, but Inez Carmen doesn't look like a killer. She looks afraid.

I cough. "What? Who's there?" she cries out, whirling around to face the trees. I stay hidden behind the trunk.

"Promise you won't hurt me if I come out?" I ask timidly. From my hiding spot I can still see her face and the warm smile that spreads across it.

"I promise." With that I step out from behind the tree back into the sunlight. Inez waves shyly at me- I return the gesture with a little more enthusiasm.

"No offense, but you don't look too good."

She smiles wearily. "I just got kicked out from my hiding place. I barely made it past a murderous horde of tiny people, and then I had to sneak through the Cornucopia dome. The Careers were there, they almost saw me."

"And you made it past them? Wow."

She makes a face. 'It wasn't that big of a deal, they lost one of their number in their fight with the tiny people. The girl from Two, the crazy one."

I nod. "I'm glad she's dead."

"Don't say that," Inez reprimands me sharply, frowning.

"It's true. She was pure evil. I'm glad she's gone. She can't hurt anyone anymore." Inez sighs, letting the matter drop. "But your hideout? What do you mean by that?"

"On the first day the little people- they call themselves Munchkins- they accepted me into their community. I got to stay there as long as I helped them with housekeeping and stuff. But after the Career incident, they chased me out. They said I was a menace and I couldn't be trusted anymore."

I lick my lips nervously. "Sounds more like the other way around." Inez throws her head back and laughs, the happiest sound I've heard in a while. Suddenly, the words come unbidden from my mouth. "Can you stay with me? Please?"

She gives me a strange look. "Allies? When I've known you for all of five minutes? No way, but sorry. You seem all right." I blush and look away from her. "But hey, tell you what. Can I stay here, in this section of the arena with you? I don't think I want to try to find another place. Not after I already went through the dome once. We can have a pact not to kill each other."

"I'd like that."

"Good. Remind me of your name again?" I tell her that my name is Knox. "All right, Knox, I'll see you around. Got any tips for me?"

"The golden-red fruit is safe to eat," I mention. Inez nods before retreating further into the jungle.

It's only when she's gone that I'm aware of a faint sound, almost like drums, far in the distance. A thrumming in the air, that's all it is. A beat beneath the sand. There are faint words, carried on the wind. I can't even hear them in the trees, it's just in the open air on the beach.

_Kill the Beast. Kill the Beast. Slit its throat._

The jungle already seems darker, foreboding. It's good to know I have a friend here, but then again there are new dangers.

_Kill the Beast._

**DISTRICT TWO MALE: ANDRAS FEY**

I sit down on a barrel next to Marlee, who's struggling to tie a knot in a short length of rope. At least the girl's managed to sit up properly without getting too lightheaded.

"Yeah, what do you want?" she snaps.

"Can you fight?"

"Hand me something." I offer her my singlestick which she accepts, wrapping her left hand around it and then gingerly adding her right as well. "I think I can manage as long as I don't get hit in the hand? The pain is starting to dull to a constant throb. The pressure from the bandage helps a lot, and I'm just getting used to it now."

"The other guys are starting to think you're useless. We need to go on some sort of raid today, and you need to participate if you want to remain a part of this alliance."

"And if I don't participate?" she asks sharply, "What are you gonna do? Let Phi kill me?"

"If you are not an asset to this alliance I will kill you myself," I retort. It shuts her up and lets me talk again. "Be ready for anything. They're not trustworthy, either of them are likely to attack you at any time."

"And what does that mean? That you're going to be loyal? Hmph, sure. That's the truth."

I scoff at her. "I'm not loyal, I'm a leader. You follow me, and I'll try and protect you as long as you do what I say."

"You're real charming, you know that?"

Phi and Kalen are restless. They want to be out cutting down the competition. Me too, every death takes me one step closer to home and right now there's no place I'd rather be. And I can't deny that killing gives me a certain thrill that I sort of enjoy.

"No one thinks I'm charming. Shut up and stop telling lies, Marlee." I grin at her, though, nullifying my harsh words.

"Not even your boyfriend?"

"No, I'm not charming even to Grant. He just likes me. I get angry about things. Apparently it's hot." I shrug it off.

"Well I can see where that's coming from," she teases. This time I actually do glare at her, and she rolls her eyes. I'll need to start making good on my threats if I want to keep my intimidation factor.

I step away from the barrel, glancing around for Phi and Kalen. Their heads are bent together over a table in the café. Scheming, I bet. I heard snatches of their conversation from yesterday. Phi's murder of a Peacekeeper. Kalen's self-sufficient life as a thief. Powerful fighters, both of them, very useful as allies, but what's that old cliché? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? It's true for me.

I stride up to their table and bring my hand down on the little wooden top. Phi sits back slowly and stares right at me, Kalen cringes and leaps to his feet. "Ready to hunt, boys?"

"You don't even know," cries Kalen, rushing back to the barricade to arm himself, "At last we're going to do something!"

"We were getting ready to mutiny," Phi pushes his chair back slowly, still keeping eye contact with me, "But for now I think you've bought me back. Good move, Pretty Boy." I nod curtly as he too retreats to the wall of furniture. They were plotting. I've got them back on my side, but I see the cycle of crap I'm caught in. If one of these guys doesn't die soon, I'll have to keep catering to their every whim to keep my own throat uncut. In essence, they have control over me unless something drastic happens. I can't just cut one of them down, that would spoil the whole alliance.

But I know they're not strong enough to fight the Career pack by themselves.

"All right, with four people ready to fight, I think we're ready to make a raid on the Careers. Tonight, in a few hours. They won't be expecting it then, and we don't want to try for an attack in the early afternoon because that's prime hunting time. They might not even be in the dome area if we charge right now."

Kalen's already anxious to go, I can tell. He keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Kalen, you either need to go to the bathroom or you're just overeager. Settle down or go take a leak." He turns bright red and stops abruptly. Marlee and Phi snigger at him.

"Everyone has their weapons, correct?" They nod. Marlee has my singlestick- not good but she's feisty, working with me or Phi she can stand a chance. Phi has his long knife and Kalen has a short curved sword. I've got my quarterstaff, and if we need to we can surely grab the Careers' extras.

"They're still overconfident, you know. They saw this group form and they still don't take any threats seriously. We can surprise them, they won't be expecting anything at all. We are strong- you are strong."

Phi nods assertively. Yes, he knows his strength. After all, he's killed before.

I smirk. "Just try to kill someone, won't you?"

"Got it, Pretty Boy," Marlee calls.

"Spar a bit, loosen up," I announce through clenched teeth, "I'll call you together in the café in two hours, then we'll have a good fight."

Phi and Kalen go off to do who knows what, I go over to Marlee again. "Stand up."

"What?"

"Stand up. You've been sitting for a day and a half." The girl shakily rises, her knees are trembling and she's straining to stay steady. "Good enough. You had better be in fighting shape, two hours. Otherwise, you're dead as soon as we get out into the dome."

Her eyes flash. "What happened to allies protect allies?"

"We're a fighting alliance, not one of those 'stick together til the very end' friendship groups. And it's obvious none of us actually care for each other. In fact, the only person I care about is probably drinking some sort of liquor right now." Pity. Marlee could have made a good friend, a fellow rebel back in Two. Never mind that, they'll all be dead in a few days.

* * *

**Lilith 'Melody' Lark, District Two**

* * *

**JGrayzz, Melody was a real wacko and tons of fun to play with. But she was more bark than bite, and nobody (tribute, reader, etc) thought of her as the real antagonist. I'm sorry.**

**Yes! Any of you who predicted 'evil munchkins', you are correct! XD**

**Some questions:**

_**In the upcoming fight, do you think anyone will die? Who?**_

**And, of course, tell me what you thought!**


End file.
